Through the Trees
by lucindadixon
Summary: Diane and Cary are defending a woman accused of shooting her husband. Of course they need ballistics. Slightly AU, and perhaps slightly supernatural. McHart
1. Chapter 1

Through the Trees

"Diane! Diane, wait up!" Cary's voice followed her down the hall, penetrating her preoccupied mind just as the elevator doors slid open. She sighed, mentally dismissing her plans for fresh air and a coffee from the shop on the corner, and turned around to face the young associate currently jogging toward her. The elevator doors slid noiselessly closed again behind her.

"Yes?" she asked, sliding off her sunglasses to observe Cary's eager expression.

"I have a client. A new client," he blurted, slightly out of breath. God, how long had he been chasing her before she heard him?

"Good," she said with a nod. "Who? What's the case?"

"The mother of a woman who lives in my building. She's been arrested for murder."

* * *

"Your mother is fine, Daisy." Cary seemed to realise the implausibility of his words and clarified as he briefly touched the arm of the petite, young, blonde woman seated beside him. "I mean, she's doing as well can be expected in her situation. She understands the charges against her and she's going to cooperate with us in every way she can to help us get her out of there. Her first court appearance is tomorrow morning and we'll try to get her out on bail then."

The young woman sniffed and wiped her weepy eyes while the distinguished-looking older gentleman on her other side patted the hand he was holding. "My granddaughter is very upset, Mr. Agos. First her father is killed, and then Karen is arrested for her murder? It's just too much. Tell me, what are the chances of her making bail?"

"Good," Diane interjected from the other side of the table at Cary's questioning glance. She'd been sitting quietly since her introduction, making notes on a legal pad and letting the first year associate do the talking. He'd done well so far. Their client's family seemed to trust him. "She's an upstanding member of the community, with a business and a family here. She's never been in any kind of trouble before. I don't foresee any problems."

"Can you tell us again what happened?" Cary asked. "Give us every detail you can remember; you never know what might turn out to be important."

Diane mentally nodded her approval and underlined Cary's name in her notes. This case could be the one that puts him over the top in her and Will's little associate zero-sum game.

Daisy took a sip of water from the bottle in front of her before speaking. "I arrived at my parents' house at about 8:00 pm. I was supposed to be meeting them there and we were all going to go out to dinner. Dad called earlier in the day while I was at work to invite me. He said they had something to discuss with me."

"Do you know what that something was?" Cary asked.

"No, not really. I mean, not for certain." She looked to her grandfather, who spoke up. "If I had to guess, I'd say they were going to tell Daisy they were separating."

Diane looked up from her note-taking. "They were having marital problems?" That was not going to play in their favour.

Daisy laughed mirthlessly, but shook her head. "They were always having marital problems, but I don't think that's what they wanted to talk about. I'm sure Mother could tell you, though."

"We'll be sure to ask," Cary assured her. "So what happened when you got to the house?"

"I got out of my car and walked up to the front door..."

"Were there any other cars there?" Cary interrupted with an apologetic look.

"Yes, Mother's Volvo was in the driveway. I didn't see Dad's truck, but it could have been in the garage."

Cary nodded. John Patterson's red 4x4 had indeed been found in the home's detached garage; there were photographs in the file.

Daisy glanced at her grandfather and continued, playing with water bottle as she spoke. "I opened the door with my key and let myself in. Nobody was on the main floor, so I called out and took a quick look around, but there was no one home. I assumed that they were out together and were just running late, so I sent Dad a text to tell him I had arrived."

Diane made a note to have Kalinda find out whether the victim's phone had received a text from his daughter and whether or not it had been read. It could be helpful in pinning down the exact time of death.

"What did you do while you waited?" Cary asked.

"I had a book in my purse, so I sat on the couch in the den and read. I was there maybe ten minutes, before I heard it." Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes frantically blinking back tears. "The gunshot," she added, her quavering voice barely above a whisper.

Roger MacPhee pushed his chair back and stood, placing his hand on Daisy's shoulder. "Mr. Agos, Ms. Lockhart, as you can see, my granddaughter is very distressed and I'd like to take her home now. Can we continue this tomorrow?"

"No, no, Grandpa, it's okay." Daisy wiped her eyes and took another sip of water. "I have to help Mother. Let's just get this over with, please. Where was I?"

Diane smiled sympathetically as Mr. MacPhee retook his seat. Deep lines of exhaustion and worry marred the older man's face; his eyes were bloodshot and sunken, his expensive business suit wrinkled.

"You had just heard the shot," Cary prompted.

"Right, yes. I heard the shot, but I didn't really think anything of it at first. The house is surrounded by woods, and it's not really unusual for people to be hunting too close. We don't like it, of course, but other than posting signs, there wasn't much my parents could do. So I…I just went back to my book. Maybe if I had gone to investigate…" Daisy voice trailed off again, but before anyone could move to comfort her, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, visibly pulling herself together.

When she opened her eyes again and spoke, her voice was steady. "I was going to say maybe I could have helped Dad, but I know that's not true, is it? The police said he died instantly. That's right, isn't it?"

Cary grimaced. "Yes, that's what's in the police report. Of course we'll have our own experts go over everything, but no one seems to be disputing the fact that the gunshot was immediately fatal."

The young woman nodded. "So I went back to my book and a few minutes later I heard someone on the back porch. The door opened and Mother came running in, covered in blood. She started screaming when she saw me, saying to call an ambulance, that Dad had been shot."

"How long was it between the shot and your mother coming in?" Diane asked, looking up when Cary missed the obvious question.

"I'm not sure," Daisy replied. "I…maybe five minutes? Long enough for me to read a couple of pages. I don't really know."

"And then what happened?" Cary prompted.

"I called 911 on my cell phone and followed Mother out into the woods as I was talking." Daisy's face had taken on a calm, almost serene quality, as if she had detached herself from the conversation and was speaking to them from somewhere else entirely.

Cary glanced at Diane, then back to Daisy. "And what did you find in the woods?"

"My father. On the ground under a tree. A bloody hole in his head. He was dead."

* * *

She never did get her coffee and fresh air, Diane realized, sometime after eight that night, as she signed the last expense report in her pile. It was too late for caffeine now, but she had a bottle of wine in her fridge and her housekeeper had texted that dinner was ready and waiting: grilled chicken penne, salad, and some good crusty bread. Maybe she'll even indulge in a small dish of ice cream while she watched the evening news.

"Hey there."

She looked up from her work to find Will leaning against her doorjamb, a bottle of scotch in one hand and two glasses in the other.

"Hey yourself. What's the occasion?" she asked, nodding at the bottle.

He shrugged, straightening up and entering the room. "Another day, another dollar?"

She grinned. "Of which we may get to keep a nickel after the jackals take their cut? Sure, why not?"

"Heard your boy Cary brought in a new client."

"He did. A wife charged with killing her husband. It's a big one, Will. Karen and John Patterson are very prominent citizens, well-off, involved in the community. There is going to be a lot of media attention. Cary could really make a name for himself here."

"You're going to let him take the lead?"

She nodded. "I don't really have a choice. The daughter trusts him and the mother is taking her cues from her. I'll keep close tabs on him, but he's the one they want."

"What's the charge?"

"First-degree murder."

"She do it?"

Diane shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not to me." Will set the glasses down on the desk and poured two fingers in each. He passed one to Diane and held his own up in the air. "To things that don't matter."

Diane clinked his glass with hers and lifted it to her lips, draining it and wincing slightly as the strong alcohol burned its way down her throat.

Will set his glass down and glanced at his watch. "Damn, it's late. I hate to drink and run, but I have an appointment."

Diane laughed. "What's her name?"

Will smirked in return. "Kelly. Met her at the gym. She is in excellent shape."

"I'm sure. Have fun."

Will turned to leave, but paused in the doorway and looked back at her. "Hey, Diane. Your case, what was the cause of death?"

"Gunshot, why?"

"If you need ballistics, I've got a guy you should meet."

* * *

 **A/N: The Mchart is coming I promise! If I can keep my motivation level up, this will be somewhat lengthy. At least, it is in my head. I hope you enjoyyy! :D:D**


	2. Chapter 2

"I didn't kill my husband. I didn't! This is crazy! They need to be out looking for whoever did!" Karen Patterson slammed her palms down on the small table in the courthouse attorney conference room, and stood up abruptly, sending her wheeled chair flying backwards. Cary started to stand, but Diane held up her hand and shook her head to indicate he should let her handle it.

"Karen," she said, quietly but firmly, approaching her from the right. "Please sit down. I need you to stay calm so we can talk. We can't help you if you don't help us." Gently, she took the younger woman's elbow and eased her back into her seat, then nodded at Cary to continue.

"Mrs. Patterson, we asked you yesterday to come up with a list of people for us to talk to, anyone you could think of who might have had a grudge against your husband, or even the potential for a grudge, or who might know of someone you don't. Do you have any names for us?"

Their client took a deep breath to compose herself, wrapping her arms around her slender abdomen as if to physically hold herself together. "Yes," she said after a moment. "You could talk to our staff at the business. John's assistant's name is Lily O'Donnell. She'll have his calendar; you could see who he met with recently. Also, our partner Arthur Eames could be helpful. He and John have been friends since high school. If anyone knows something about John that I don't, it's one of those two."

Cary notes the names down on his pad. "Anyone else?"

"No…I…no, I can't think of anyone. God, this makes no sense. Everyone loved John; I just can't imagine why anyone would want to kill him. It has to have been an accident, a hunter too close to the house. You'll look into that, won't you? You'll see if anyone saw hunters in the woods that night?"

"Yes, we will, of course," Diane said. "Our investigator is trying to find any witnesses that may have been in the area near the time of the shooting."

"Mrs. Patterson," Cary began, with a quick glance at Diane, who nodded reassuringly, "Just one more thing. I'm sorry to have to ask this, but is there any possibility Mr. Patterson could have been having an affair?"

Their client's eyes widened. "An affair? No, I…no! Where would you have ever gotten that idea? John loved me."

"I'm sure he did," Cary said apologetically. "I just have to ask. We can't afford to leave any unexplored avenues here, is all."

Cary and Diane had agreed on the drive over that it was probably best not to mention Roger MacPhee's suggestion that perhaps the Patterson's were having marital difficulties. Either the client would volunteer that information, or she wouldn't, but either way, they needed more information before confronting her. In addition to having her looking for potential witnesses, Diane had already asked Kalinda to ask some discrete questions of the staff at the Patterson's architecture and interior design business.

"Well, that avenue is a dead end," Karen said, twisting a chunk of her dark curly hair around her fingers. "John was the most loyal person I've ever met. Ask Arthur, he's tell you the same thing. He would never cheat."

"Okay," Cary said, dropping the subject for now, as he and Diane had previously agreed.

"Is my daughter here?" Karen asked. "Have you spoken to her today?"

"I haven't seen her yet, but she was planning on being here," Cary said. "She knows she might need to go out and arrange bond after the hearing. That reminds me of another question though. When we met with Daisy yesterday, she said she was meeting you and your husband at your home that night, so you could all go out for dinner. Is that right?"

"Yes, yes that's correct," Karen said. "John called Daisy at work and asked her to meet us and we'd drive to the restaurant together."

"She said her father had something he wanted to discuss with her, but she didn't know what it was."

"Yes, no, she wouldn't. God. I guess that's all off now anyway." Karen rested her elbow on the table and her forehead on her palm, shaking her head back and forth slowly. "I just can't believe this is happening. It's like a nightmare, only I'm never going to wake up."

Diane exchanged a glance with Cary over their client's head and shrugged her shoulders a little to indicate he should continue with his line of questioning.

"The dinner, Mrs. Patterson. What were you going to discuss with Daisy?"

"Oh. Yes. The land. We were going to tell her we were donating a portion of the land around the house to the Illinois Nature Preservation Society. They're a group dedicated to preserving endangered flora and fauna, protecting the wetlands, that sort of thing."

"I'm familiar with them," Diane said with a small smile. "I've attended a fundraiser or two."

Karen nodded. "I thought your name sounded familiar. I've done a lot of volunteer work with the group. John…John and I both feel…felt…that there is nothing more important than preserving our environment." Tears flooded her eyes as she struggled with the correct verb tenses.

"What brought you to the decision to donate your land, Mrs. Patterson?" Cary asked gently.

"We've struggled for years trying to keep hunters off our land, but it was a losing battle. We knew INPS had resources we did not to erect fencing, and the ability to enforce the laws and impose penalties for poaching. And just generally, the land would be in much better hands with the foundation. They'd protect it and the creatures who live in it, in ways that John and I cannot."

"So you were going to tell Daisy about the donation at dinner."

"Yes, that's right. It wouldn't have been a surprise; we've discussed it on and off for years, but we wanted to let her know we were going forward with it."

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of the bailiff to escort Karen in the courtroom. "Time for the show," Diane commented, giving the client her most reassuring smile, as Cary gathered up his papers. "We'll see you in there. And don't worry; like we said earlier, this one is quick and easy, and if things go our way, you should be able to go home afterwards."

* * *

"Ms. Lockhart, your 3:00 is here." Her executive assistant's tinny voice emerged from her telephone intercom, startling Diane out of her internal rehashing of the morning's hearing. Karen Patterson had been granted bail, but it had been a near thing. Matan Brody wasn't going to cut Cary any slack on this one, not that she'd expected he would, but it would have been nice to have a more junior prosecutor assigned to the case. Of course that had been a pipe dream from the start; Glenn Childs would never assign an inexperienced ADA to such a high-profile case. She only hoped she hadn't made a mistake in not insisting on first-chairing this one personally.

 _Well, if they lost, at least the client could appeal based on incompetent representation_ , she thought perversely.

"Send him in, please," she said, pushing the intercom button and then sitting up straighter in her seat and pulling a pad and pen from her drawer.

"Mr. McVeigh, hello," she said as Will's newly discovered ballistics expert entered her office. Dressed in jeans, plaid, and boots, he looked to Diane like he'd be more at home in the wilderness than an upscale Chicago law firm. "Thank you for coming in to meet with me."

"Sure," he said, with a quick nod. In one hand he held a large manila envelope; the other he extended in greeting.

Diane rose and shook his hand firmly before retaking her seat. "So, you've had a chance to look though the file I sent over?"

"I have," he confirmed.

She waited for him to expand on that, but after a few awkward seconds it became clear he wasn't going to. "So…do you have any ideas for me?" she asked.

"I do."

She almost smiled when, again, he failed to elaborate. A man of few words, this Mr. McVeigh. It was a pleasant change from the other men she dealt with, many of whom were in love with the sound of their own voices.

"And they are?" she prompted.

"Before we get into that, I have a question." He leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together in front of him. His steady gaze was almost disconcerting, but she was catching on, she thought, to his method of conversing.

"Okay. What's your question?" she asked.

"She do it?"

She blinked. She had been expecting something related to his fee, travel expenses maybe, or payment terms. "Excuse me?"

"Did she do it? Your client. Is she guilty?"

"Oh, I…I don't know. Is that important?"

"It is."

He had to be kidding, though despite a rather long, pointed look at him, Diane could detect no sign that that was the case. "Well, she says she's innocent, though in my experience, they usually do. I haven't come upon any evidence to suggest she's lying to me, but we're in the early stages yet." She paused, debating with herself whether to even ask before tossing caution to the wind. "Please forgive my impertinence, Mr. McVeigh, but I have to ask: why does it even matter?"

He looked at her, his head tilted quizzically as if trying to decide whether she was a particularly slow child or just pulling his leg. "Because," he said at last, slowly and firmly, "I won't testify if the client is guilty. I won't be party to letting a guilty man or woman go free."

Oh. Well. A man of principle. Diane hadn't met very many of those over the course of her career. Despite the potential for difficulty in employing such an expert witness, she found the whole idea rather intriguing.

She stood and walked over to her window, taking a moment to look out over her city, before turning and resting her hip against the wide window ledge. "So, if I hire you today and a week from now we uncover something that seems to prove my client is guilty, what happens?"

"I decline to continue with the case."

"That's rather inconvenient."

He sat back in his seat, turning slightly to face her straight on. "Lawyers who hire me know what they're getting into, Ms. Lockhart. My rates are set accordingly, and some would say the quality of my work is worth the extra…inconvenience."

"I'm sure." She laughed lightly. "So, assuming Mrs. Patterson doesn't suddenly confess, will you help us out?"

He stood, setting the manila envelope onto the desk in front of him. "My preliminary opinion and a contract for my services. Read it. If you're interested, give me a call."

"I will," she said, taken slightly aback at the suddenness with which the meeting seemed to be coming to an end.

He nodded, and left the office without another word.

"Thank you for coming by, Mr. McVeigh," Diane said to her empty office. "I'm looking forward to working with you. I think."


	3. Chapter 3

Foremost in Diane's mind as she followed Kurt McVeigh through the forest was that she should probably have worn different shoes. Louboutins and hiking trails do not a good combination make. Only slightly less prominent in her thoughts, as she trailed him up a steep embankment, was how nice his ass looked in faded denim. After all, it was right there in front of her; she could hardly fail to notice.

She did, however, fail to notice the loose rock in her path and when her foot connected with it, she and the rock both started sliding backwards down the hill. "Ahhh," she cried out, her hands flying out in front of her as attempted to regain her balance.

"Whoa there," Kurt said, turning around and grabbing her outstretched hands. "You alright?" he asked when she stopped flailing.

"Yes, I think so," she said, still holding tight to his hands while she made sure she wasn't about to topple backwards down the slope.

"Should have worn boots," Kurt commented.

"You think?" she asked, impatiently dropping his hands only to slip backward another inch until he grabbed her elbow to stop her.

"Maybe you should go first," he suggested. "I'll stay back here to cushion your fall."

He stood aside so she could move around him to continue up the hill and, without the previous distractions, she was able to make it to the top without further incident. She turned back, about to point out how well she could manage in heels after all, to find McVeigh with a rather glazed look on his face. Apparently he had found the same advantages as she in bringing up the rear.

"Seems my...attire...was suitable after all," she quipped, resisting the urge to wink.

A bemused blink followed by a lopsided smirk were answer enough.

After a brief moment, Diane mentally shook herself and gestured off to the right. "The crime scene is just over here." She led him off the marked trail to a triangular area still cordoned off by police tape attached to three large pine trees.

Kurt pulled out his crime scene photos and held them up in comparison to the scene in order to orient himself, while Diane described what Daisy and Karen had already told her.

"According to our client, she and her husband were out for a walk when Mr. Patterson thought he saw someone through the trees. They had ongoing issues with trespassers, so he called out and then went off the trail to follow."

"Good way to get shot," McVeigh said under his breath.

"Well…yes, as it turned out," Diane said. "I assume you're thinking of poachers, and that is Mrs. Patterson's belief as well. We are certainly looking into that angle, but thus far we've turned up nothing."

McVeigh shook his head. "Not many poachers use handguns, Ms. Lockhart. He was shot with a .38." He approached one of the three trees from just outside the crime scene tape, held up a photograph and then pointed at a spot on the ground. "He was standing here, facing north, when he was shot. Fell, hit his head on that tree on the way down."

"Yes. Karen says she was approaching him from the left when she heard the shot. She screamed, dropped to the ground, and covered her head. When, after a few moments, there were no more shots, she got up and discovered her husband had been hit."

McVeigh pulled out a tape measure, and went to work measuring, making notes, and checking things with some sort of instrument, while Diane walked around the immediate vicinity, taking care not to lose sight of the crime scene. It was early, not yet noon, but the day was gloomy and with the leafy canopy blocking the sun overhead, she could easily have believed it was early evening.

The trees were quite dense when one ventured off the trail, the ground covered with dried leaves, pine needles, and low-growing plant life. And probably teeming with bugs underneath that, Diane thought as she stepped back on the cleared path. She should probably buy some sort of hiking boots in case she needed to come out here again.

A glance over her shoulder told her McVeigh was still performing his ballistics voodoo, so she walked a little further along the path, smiling when she spied a chattering chipmunk high in a tree.

"Hello there," she said to it quietly. It wouldn't do to let McVeigh hear her talking to the wildlife like some sort of Disney princess. She followed the chipmunk for a few more feet down the path until her attention was captured by something else up ahead of her on the trail.

A flash of white moved through the trees, like someone wearing a white shirt or jacket dashing through the woods. Someone, perhaps, who didn't want to be seen by the official looking people working around the crime scene?

She picked up her pace, attempting to get closer, to see if she could get a better look, but they were moving quickly, far too quickly for her to catch, hindered as she was by her high heels and the rough terrain.

"Wait," she called, "Who's there?" But no one answered, and she had completely lost sight of the flash of white, whatever, or whomever, it had been.

She turned around, shivering as a sudden cool breeze slid over her bare arms. The crime scene, and Kurt McVeigh, were no longer in sight. But she wasn't lost, she told herself. She just had to follow the path back. She hadn't turned at any point, or at least, she didn't think she had.

Wrapping her arms around herself she started walking back the way she came. Sure enough, after only a few minutes she could once again see the yellow police tape wrapped around the trees. McVeigh, however, was nowhere to be seen.

She jumped as a hand landed on her shoulder.

* * *

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr Eames." Cary took the seat the older man indicated, as John and Karen Patterson's business partner sat opposite him at one end of the long steel and glass boardroom table.

"Of course," he said. "This is just all such a shock. I'd like to help in any way I can."

"Thank you," Cary said as he pulled a pad and pen from his bag. "Anything you could tell me about John Patterson, his recent activities, his relationships, could potentially be helpful to us in defending Mrs. Patterson."

Mr Eames sat back in his seat, his arms folded over his ample midsection. "I suppose Karen told you that John and I have been friends most of our lives. We went to high school together, then college. Started this company together. He was like a brother to me."

"Yes, she mentioned that."

Eames lifted one large hand to his face, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger. "Which is what makes what I have to tell you so difficult. By the way, Is everything I tell you going to get back to Karen?"

"Only if it's something we can use in court, sir."

Eames nodded, his hand dropping away from his face to land on the table in front of him. "What Karen probably didn't tell you, as I assume she didn't know, is that John and I haven't been on the best of terms lately. In fact, we've taken the first steps towards dissolving our partnership."

Cary looked up, startled, his pen poised and inch above the paper, mid-word. "Why is that, sir?"

Eames rose and stepped away from the table, turning to a large window over-looking the city. "John and I started this company when we were first out of school, gave it everything we had, made it into a success. And look around you; we're damned good at what we do." He turned back around, gesturing to the frames lining the walls of the boardroom, photographs of beautiful homes and towering office buildings, presumably examples of their work.

"I'm sure that's true, sir," Cary said.

"And it was fun back then, building the business, making lots of money doing what we loved. I don't know, maybe it's just that we're not young any more, we're tired, but It's not fun any more, Mr. Agos. The stress, the deadlines, the demanding clients: they've all taken their toll on our friendship. John and I, the last year or so, we're like that married couple who has been together for too long, who don't even really like each other any more, but who are so intertwined, they don't know how to separate."

"But you figured out how."

Arthur Eames nodded. "John contacted an attorney to see about dissolving the partnership. We were going to meet with her tomorrow, see what she had to say. It was just time, that's all."

"And Mrs. Patterson didn't know any of this?"

"My understanding was no, he hadn't told her yet. And if she didn't mention it to you, that seems to confirm it. Karen runs our interior design department, which is quite separate, administratively, from John and I, and the architecture side of things. My breaking away wouldn't affect her much, and John didn't want to worry her unnecessarily."

"And you would prefer she not know, now."

"Well, there doesn't seem to be any reason for it now, does there, son? With John gone, I obviously won't be going anywhere."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, favourites and follows. I hope you all are enjoying.


	4. Chapter 4

"Trying to get yourself shot?" McVeigh asked her as she spun around to face him, her heart pounding out an overture, her breath vibrating in her chest. His hand fell from her shoulder.

"Trying to save me the trouble by giving me a heart attack?" she retorted, hand pressed to her chest as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. "You scared the life out of me!"

He at least had the decency to look abashed. "Sorry," he said, glancing down at the ground. "I didn't mean to startle you. I looked up and you were gone. Didn't want you to get lost, not when it's about to rain. You'd ruin your fancy shoes." His head came back up, moustache twitching into an apologetic smile.

She found herself returning the crooked grin. "No, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have wandered off, but Kurt, I thought I saw someone running through the woods! This is private property; no one else should be here, and if they are, maybe they've been here before." Still a bit chilled, she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, smoothing out the goosebumps.

He nodded slowly. "What did they look like? Tall?"

"I...I don't know. All I really saw was something white, like a shirt. They were moving fast, running, over there, through the trees."

He turned to look where she was pointing. "Don't see anything now."

She shook her head, still rubbing her arms. "No, I lost sight of them; that's why I came back. Why do you ask if they were tall? Is that important?"

Kurt frowned and slid off his brown suede jacket and held it out for her. "Because whoever shot John Patterson was at least six foot."

She stared, opened her mouth, then closed it again, turning around and sliding into the jacket before she spoke. "But Karen is only 5'3."

He pointed at her. "Exactly."

Diane smiled slowly, her eyes locked on his as she considered whether that would be enough to clear their client.

McVeigh was first to look away, clearing his throat and turning back to where he left his equipment.

"Maybe we could go take a quick look," Diane said quickly, gesturing off the beaten path, the too-long sleeve of his jacket sliding up her arm as she pointed. "If I could find a witness to a tall man shooting Mr. Patterson, that would lock things up."

"You reckon maybe your figure in white conveniently dropped a business card?" Kurt asked teasingly, folding his arms across his chest.

Her eyes narrowed, lips pressing together in a thin line. "Never mind. I'll look by myself." She spun around, as gracefully as she could manage, given that her heels were sinking into the ground and took a few steps away from him.

"No, no, come on. Don't be like that. Let's go take a look." He walked past her and veered off the path in the direction she had pointed. "How far in?" he called back over his shoulder.

She hurried over tree roots and batted away brambles to catch up to him. "If we were in the city, I'd say he was about a half a block away from me."

He laughed. "No blocks in here, Ms. Lockhart. But I take your meaning.

"Diane," she said, finally catching up to him, but staying behind a couple of steps behind so she could follow where he stepped.

"Diane," he repeated. "I thought there might be another trail running parallel to the one we were on, but I don't see anything." He stopped and turned back to face her. "In fact, I don't see any sign of someone having walked through this brush at all."

"I didn't imagine it," she insisted. She was physically warmer now, with his coat on, but something about these woods, especially off the trail, tightly surrounded by trees, chilled her deep inside. It was getting darker too, the bits of the sky she could see through the trees were a cloudy grey.

"Didn't say you did." Whatever it was that bothered her about this place seemed to have no effect at all on McVeigh. Perhaps he was just used to the strange quiet of the forest in a way she wasn't.

They continued walking until Diane was certain they had gone farther into the woods than whatever she had seen.

"Okay," she conceded. "I give up. Whatever I saw didn't leave anything behind. Maybe..."

A crash of thunder interrupted her thought.

* * *

An hour later, she entered her office to find Cary, Kalinda and Will already seated around her small conference table. "Hello," she greeted them, limping past them directly into her private bathroom with as much dignity as she could muster.

The three of them exchanged puzzled glances. Their usually immaculate managing partner was dripping on her oriental rug, her hair wet and tangled, her clothing streaked with mud.

"What the hell happened to you?" Will asked loudly, leaning as far back as the chair would allow trying to see her.

"Were those pine needles in her hair?" Cary whispered to Kalinda.

"I spent the morning traipsing through the woods with the Marlboro Man," she said, poking her head out of the bathroom doorway. "In heels. It rained; I fell. That is all." She closed the door behind her and took some small comfort in the fact that Will was the only one brave enough to laugh loudly enough for her to hear.

Quickly changing into the spare dress she found hanging in the tiny closet, she ignored the pair of shoes the floor and ran a brush through her damp hair, which still smelled pleasantly masculine from being in contact with Kurt's jacket. It didn't help much; she still appeared to have lost an epic battle with Mother Nature, which really wasn't that far from the truth. After one last frown at herself in the mirror, she shrugged and padded out the bathroom in her stocking feet to join the others at the conference table.

"You clean up nice," Will commented, standing and offering her his chair with exaggerated chivalry.

She rolled her eyes, but took the seat as her partner left them to their case.

"So, what do you have for me," she asked Cary and Kalinda.

Cary stared for a moment, still distracted by his boss's dishevelled appearance until Kalinda kicked him under the table. "Oh, right. I met with Arthur Eames, and you're not going to believe this. He and John Patterson were about a minute away from ending their partnership."

"That is interesting," Diane said. "Is he a tall man, this Mr. Eames?"

"Tall? Yeah, I guess so. Taller than me, maybe six foot or so. Why?"

"According to our ballistics expert, the shooter was at least six feet tall," she explained, giving a quick, edited account of her morning. There was no need to mention the person she thought she saw running through the woods. Given that she and Kurt had found no trace of anyone before it started to rain, that avenue was most likely a dead end. She turned the conversation back to the original subject. "Why were they ending their partnership?"

"He said it was a mutual decision, that they hadn't been getting along for some time, and it was just time to go their separate ways. They were about to meet with a lawyer."

"A lawyer? Who?"

"A woman named Renee Abrams," Cary said, checking his notes. "She had done some work for them before, and according to Eames, John Patterson set up the meeting to discuss dissolving the partnership."

Diane nodded. "I've heard of her. She has a good reputation. Give her a call, Cary, see what she'll tell you." She turned to Kalinda. "How about you?"

The investigator opened her notebook. "I did as you asked and struck up a conversation with the receptionist at Patterson & Eames while I pretended to be waiting for Cary.

"You were waiting for me," Cary added jokingly. "You were my drive."

Kalinda rolled her eyes and ignored him. "I offered my condolences on Mr. Patterson's death and said I heard they arrested his wife. The receptionist, a Mrs. Dobkins, immediately said Mrs. Patterson had to be innocent, that she would never do anything like that."

"Of course not," Diane said. "No one ever knows anyone who would do something like that, yet people do, every day. What else?"

"I suggested a few possible motives: marital difficulties, infidelity, money issues, and she firmly denied any fighting or cheating, but wavered a bit on the money. Apparently the firm hasn't been doing well lately."

"Which can happen when the two founding partners are at each other's throats," Cary pointed out.

Diane agreed. "I think your Mr. Eames, guilty or innocent, is our best shot at reasonable doubt. Keep on it. Kalinda, I want to know where he was the night of the murder. And Cary, get in touch with Renee Abrams as soon as possible." She stood, signalling that the meeting was over, and the other two were quick to take the hint, filing out of her office with Cary closing the door behind him.

Diane stepped away from the conference table, only to collapse behind her desk, slouching back in her chair and wiggling her sore toes. It had been a long day already and it was only mid-afternoon. Trekking through the woods was exhausting, even before the rain and her unfortunate incident with some wet leaves and a hill. Now everything hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to go home, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed with a good book. It was a nice fantasy, but one that would have to wait given the piles of paperwork awaiting her attention.

After a couple of hours work, the piles had decreased somewhat when she looked up at her assistant's knock on the door. At a wave from Diane, the young woman entered, a plainly wrapped box in her hand. "This just came for you," she said, setting it on the desk. "Someone dropped it off downstairs."

She thanked her, and waited until the other woman was settled back behind her desk on the other side of the glass, before pulling the package toward her. Her name was neatly inscribed on the wrapping in masculine handwriting she didn't recognize, but there was no return address.

Unable to contain her curiosity, she ripped off the wrapping to discover a large shoebox. Beginning now to get an inkling, she fought a smile as she lifted the cover of the box to reveal a pair of grey hiking boots with bright purple laces. One hand flew to her mouth to hold in a burst of pleased laughter as she plucked a boot from the box and leaned back in her chair, turning it this way and that in admiration.

They were even in her size.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dad and Uncle Art weren't going to be partners anymore? That doesn't make any sense." Daisy shook her head in disbelief as she added sugar to the cup of tea Diane's assistant had set in front of her. "They've been friends since before I was born."

"What do you think, Karen?" Diane asked her client, who was sitting silently across the boardroom table, head lowered, staring into her teacup with her hands in her lap. She looked tired, eyes puffy and underlined with dark circles, like she hadn't slept since the day of the murder. Probably, she hadn't. Feeling slightly cold-hearted, Diane made a mental note to suggest a sleep aid. They couldn't have her looking like that in court. An inability to sleep suggested guilt.

Diane had Cary call them to come into the office early that morning to discuss both the results of McVeigh's preliminary work at the crime scene, and his discussion with Arthur Eames. He was presently with Patterson & Eames' counsel at her office, and should arrive back at shortly with whatever information the lawyer could offer on the impending break-up of the partnership.

"What? Oh, I...I don't know what to think, quite honestly," Karen said. "If Arthur and John were having problems, neither of them mentioned it to me. He didn't give a reason for the decision?"

"Not really," Diane said. "According to Cary, he just claimed that they had grown apart. Cary is speaking to their lawyer right now, so he may have some new information when he arrives. A Ms. Abrams, do you know her?"

Karen nodded, picking up a spoon and stirring her untouched tea. "She was helping us with the land donation. I should actually contact her myself. Someone will have to tell INPS that they won't be getting the land after all."

"Oh, you're not going to go through with it?" Diane asked.

Karen shook her head, set down the teaspoon and reached out to pat Daisy's hand. "It's Daisy's land now."

Daisy laid her hand atop the older woman's as she addressed Diane. "I may still do it. I just want to take some time and think about what my mother may have wanted."

"I'm sorry," Diane apologized, confused. "Your mother? But I thought...aren't you…" She gestured from Karen to Daisy.

"I adopted Daisy when she was two," Karen explained. "Her biological mother passed away when she was a baby."

"Mom...Karen...is my mother in every way that matters," Daisy said, squeezing Karen's hand, "but the land came to us through my biological mother's family and I feel like I owe it to her, and to my grandfather, to take some time to think about what to do with it."

"Your grandfather, the man who was here with you that first meeting," Diane said, understanding dawning.

"Yes," Karen said. "Roger was my husband's first father-in-law."

A knock interrupted any further comment Diane may have had, and the door opened as Cary entered the room. "Good morning, everyone. Sorry I'm late."

"How did it go," Diane asked.

"It was...interesting," he said, setting his briefcase down on the table. "Diane filled you in?" he asked Karen and Daisy.

"Yes, we just can't believe John and Arthur had decided to go their separate ways and didn't even tell me," Karen said. "It makes no sense. Shouldn't I have known if they were having problems? It's my business too."

"Well that's the thing," Cary said, taking a seat at the table next to Daisy. "I don't know that they were. At least, not the kind of problems Mr. Eames led me to believe."

"What do you mean?" Diane asked.

"Well, according to Ms. Abrams, the reason Mr. Patterson wanted out of the partnership had nothing to do with two old friends growing apart. He wanted out because he found out Arthur Eames was embezzling from the company."

* * *

Kurt McVeigh lived on a farm. She wasn't sure why that discovery surprised her, but it did. Rural, yes, she expected rural, but her unconscious mind had pictured a small log cabin surrounded by wilderness, maybe with an old-fashioned water pump in the front yard and a bomb shelter in the back. What she actually found was an immense barn-like structure, next to a largish, well-kept farmhouse and several other smaller buildings, all surrounded by what appeared, to her uneducated eye, to be functional farmland. There was something intriguing about it, attractive, even as she felt distinctly out of her element.

She drove up the long winding driveway and parked her car next to the barn, not getting out right away, but taking a moment to gather her thoughts and prepare. McVeigh called earlier that morning before her meeting with Karen, Daisy and Cary. He hadn't given her much information, only saying he had something he needed to show her. She hoped that wasn't indicative of bad news for her client. Worry that the ballistics expert would quit the case if he discovered Karen was guilty was always in the back of her mind, a possibility she very much hoped wouldn't come to pass. Not only would it be difficult to find someone else on such short notice, but it would be potentially prejudicial if anyone were to find out. And also...well, she just didn't want to hire anyone else.

He had advised her over the phone that she would find him in the smaller cottage beside the main house. She walked up the entrance, pulled open the storm door, and tapped lightly on the inner wooden door, before entering as instructed. Inside, she found a neat, wood-paneled office complete with a roaring fire. Several lamps were lit, adding more warm, golden light to the cozy but masculine interior. The walls were lined with bookshelves and adorned with multiple diplomas, antique ballistics documents, and odd western art. The man himself was slouched in a worn leather chair, boots up on his desk, telephone receiver pressed to his ear. She motioned back behind her to the door when he looked up, asking wordlessly if he wanted privacy. He shook his head and gestured to the chair in front of the desk. As she sat, Diane was again struck by the strange feeling of being both comfortable and uncomfortable simultaneously.

"Gotta go," he told the person on the other end of the line. "Gotta client here." There was a brief pause as he listened, followed by, "Yep."

"Thank you again," she said when he hung up and turned his chair toward her. "For the boots. That was very thoughtful."

He nodded. "No problem."

His mouth remained slightly open, as if he were about to continue. She found herself hoping he was going to suggest helping her break them in, but as seemed to be his usual way, he held her gaze, but said nothing more.

She blinked first. "So...you wanted to show me something."

"Right." He rose and headed for the door, leaving her scrambling after him. They walked outside, past her car and across the driveway to the barn. "It's lovely out here," she commented. "So much...space."

He shot her an amused look, but didn't comment as he opened the large barn doors.

After passing through a cavernous storage area, Kurt tapped a code into a security console and pushed open a heavy steel door. Diane stepped forward and found herself in a surprisingly high-tech looking lab. The counters were lined with microscopes, computers and other equipment she couldn't begin to label. The work table in the middle of the room was strewn with open books, printouts, and what she recognized as photos from the crime scene. "Over here," Kurt said, beckoning her over to to a computer monitor. "Look."

She looked. And then looked some more. "What am I looking at,"she asked finally, giving up on working it out for herself.

"This." He tapped his finger against the monitor, pointing at a line of figures on the screen.

"And this means...what?"

"It's an analysis of the presumed trajectory of the bullet, the features of wound, the position of the body, and the geography of the area surrounding the crime scene. It isn't adding up."

"It isn't?" She looked over at him to find him glaring intently at the monitor, as though he could change what it said through sheer force of will.

After a moment he shook his head and straightened up. "No. The way I figure it, the body was moved."

What he didn't add, though she knew he was thinking it, was that Karen Patterson was the most likely person to have moved it. And the only reason for her to have done so and not mentioned it, was if she was the one who shot her husband and she was trying to conceal some sort of evidence.

"Moved?" Diane repeated, as if she hadn't caught the implication. "Oh no, I don't think so. We went over everything that happened numerous times with both our client and her daughter and neither of them said anything about moving the body."

Kurt shrugged. "And clients never lie."

Clients, of course, lied all the time and they both knew it, but…"There was nothing in the police report about the body being moved. Wouldn't their crime lab have picked up on that? Or wouldn't someone have noticed, I don't know, drag marks or something, at the crime scene?"

He shrugged again. "All I know is these numbers don't make sense with the body lying in the position it was in when the police photographed it. The science doesn't lie."

"Oh. Okay. So now what?" _Don't quit, please don't quit._

"Now," McVeigh said, "We go back to the crime scene."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N - I admittedly know nothing about forensics, so ahh...please don't think about this too hard. Heh.**

* * *

"I still think we need to go to the police." The frustration in Cary's voice came through the phone as clearly as if he were standing in front of her. "We need to get them to look at Arthur Eames. He was embezzling from the company. Patterson found out and was going to toss him out of the company, and who knows what else. So he shot him. It makes perfect sense, Diane. The SA has got to drop the charges against Karen."

With no cell service inside the lab, Diane paced back and forth in front of the large overhead door to Kurt McVeigh's barn as she spoke to her young associate. "No," she said. "We don't have enough. Not yet. Maybe he was embezzling, maybe he wasn't, but we have absolutely nothing tying him to the murder. You need to be patient and let Kalinda do her job. If there's anything to find, she'll find it; you know that."

Cary's frustration was almost tangible. "I know, I know. It's just so frustrating. I know she's innocent. McVeigh's analysis proves it, right? Karen is nowhere near six feet tall."

Diane sighed. "About that…"

Cary swore under his breath. "What?"

"I'm at Mr. McVeigh's lab right now. He has reconsidered his earlier assertions. He now says the evidence doesn't add up as presented, and he thinks the body may have been moved post-mortem. We're driving out to the crime scene shortly so he can check on a few things.

"What? That's impossible. The only people to see the body before the police were Daisy and Karen."

"So you can see how this doesn't look good for our side." Diane stopped pacing and leaned against the trunk of her car on her elbows.

"You're not starting to doubt Karen's innocence, are you?" Cary asked her.

"I don't know what to think right now, but Cary, you know it doesn't matter whether she's guilty or not. Either way, we still do our jobs. Understand?"

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence before the young associate answered. "Yeah. I understand. It's just that it's going to kill Daisy if she finds out her mother killed her father."

"Daisy's feelings are not our concern." Diane cringed slightly at the unintended harshness in her tone, but the last thing they needed was for Cary to become distracted by interest in a pretty, young woman. "Our concern is doing the best we can for our client. And right now, for me, that means keeping our ballistics expert from deciding she's guilty and quitting. While I'm doing that, I want you to speak to John Patterson's assistant. See what she can tell us about this Arthur Eames business." A glance at her watch told her she probably wouldn't make it back to the office that night. "We'll meet with Kalinda tomorrow morning and compare notes. Okay?"

Cary agreed, with somewhat more reluctance than Diane would have liked, but there was nothing more she could do about that now. If Daisy became too much of an issue, she'd deal with it then.

Just as she disconnected, McVeigh came out of the barn with a bag full of equipment. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, straightening up. "But I think I should make a quick stop at my home and change, if you don't mind waiting? It's on the way."

"No problem," he said. "I'll follow you in the truck." He gestured back at a huge pickup truck that didn't look as if it had ever been driven on a city street.

"Great," she said, strangling a grin as she considered her neighbours' reactions to her visitor's mode of transportation.

* * *

They stopped at Diane's townhouse for ten minutes so she could change into jeans - $200 J Brand jeans, yes, but jeans all the same- and her new hiking boots. Kurt refused her invitation to wait inside, but he was of of his truck, leaning again the front end when she returned outside.

"No point in taking two rigs," he said, his voice stopping her with her hand on her car door handle. "Hop in." He pointed to the passenger side of his huge truck which barely fit behind her car in her tiny city driveway.

She laughed, walked back to the truck and looked up at the door. "I don't know if I can."

"Something tells me you can do pretty much anything you set your mind to," Kurt said, coming to stand behind her and reaching past to open the door. The same masculine scent she remembered from the previous day when she wore his jacket drifted past, stirring up butterflies in her stomach. She glanced back to find him waiting patiently, hand on the door, his expression unreadable. She met his eyes, and raised one eyebrow, but aside from a sparkle she might have imagined, he didn't react.

That is, until she stepped up on the running board and found a hand offered in unneeded assistance. She took it.

* * *

Diane was beginning to suspect she could spend years with this man and still be continually surprised by him. The thirty minute drive to the crime scene passed in an instant, with Diane discovering that, once she hit upon the right topic of conversation, Kurt McVeigh could _talk_.

Literature, film, current events, and oh dear god, politics - all topics covered, and promptly disagreed upon. She could have predicted they would have little in common from the moment she first laid eyes on him, but she never would have guessed they would disagree on absolutely everything, nor that they would have such fun doing it. The man had real passion behind that stoic facade, she'd give him that, and delivered such wonderfully well-thought out arguments; it was a shame they were so horribly wrong. Of course, she thoroughly enjoyed telling him exactly why that was, but it seemed, if she wasn't mistaking the gleam in his eye, he didn't mind a bit.

It was just before dusk when they pulled into the Patterson's driveway. Diane had called ahead, and Karen had given her permission for them to do whatever they needed to do, but said she wouldn't be joining them as she was in bed with a migraine. They parked behind Karen's car and detoured around the house, though the backyard, and onto the woodland trail that would take them to the crime scene.

"A lot easier with proper footwear, isn't it, Ms. Lockhart?" Kurt teased as walked along the rough trail.

She rolled her eyes and brushed past him, easily scaling the hill she struggled with on their first outing. "Just try to keep up, McVeigh." She could hear his snort of laughter, but didn't turn around to share her answering grin.

It was just a quick five minute hike to the crime scene this time, and then Diane pulled her phone from her pocket and took a seat on a fallen log, while Kurt got to work with his equipment.

When she discovered a missed call from Kalinda, she touched the button to return it, and held the phone to her ear. "Any news?" she asked when the investigator answered. And news there was; Kalinda had discovered Arthur Eames was in dire financial straits; he had two mortgages out on his penthouse condo, and he owed a large sum of money to a well-known bookie. Earlier in the year, he had taken out a loan in the company's name that wasn't on the Patterson & Eames books, and, according to the records provided by Renee Abrams, he had been pocketing architecture fees for at least several months before John Patterson caught on.

"And now John is dead," Diane mused after hanging up. "It's almost too easy."

Kalinda had been unable to turn up any clear alibi. No one she talked to knew where Eames had gone after he left the office that night. She hadn't yet looked into whether he owned a gun, but she would get on that first thing in the morning. It was beginning to look like it was almost time to slip some of this information to the State's Attorney's Office. But, Diane decided, not until Kurt was able to provide some reassurance around the science.

"How's it going over there," she asked, standing and walking over to join him.

He shook his head, checking the output on an instrument of some sort, then looked over at her. "I can tell you what scenario would make sense to me, but you won't like it."

That didn't sound very promising. "Try me," she said.

"Okay. Well from what I can figure based on the topography of the area, the features of the wound, and several other technical factors that I can get into if you want…" He paused, then continued after a quick headshake from Diane. "The most likely scenario, was that Patterson was standing over here, facing toward the house." Kurt moved to stand on the trail they had just arrived on. "And whoever shot him, approached from that direction there." He pointed back the way they came. "Since I estimate they were about twenty feet away when they pulled the trigger, they had probably just crested your hill back there."

"The killer came from the house?" she asked, incredulously, hands on her hips.

Kurt shrugged. "Not necessary. He could have circled around from anywhere to end up on the trail behind the victim. But yes, the most likely scenario is that he, or she, entered the woods from the trailhead in the Patterson's backyard."

"But if he was standing here when he was shot…" Diane moved to stand beside Kurt. "...then he would have fallen back this way." She pointed to the ground behind her. "But he was over there, facing away from the house when the police arrived. Wouldn't there be some sign that he'd been moved? Blood, or tracks or something?"

He nodded. "My guess is the killer just picked up the bloody leaves, moved them too, and then trampled down more leaves to make the trail look undisturbed. There may still have been traces, but with all the rain, and people walking through here, if there were signs, they're gone now."

"But why...what would moving the body accomplish?"

Kurt shrugged. "You said your client was trying to suggest a poacher, an accidental shooting…"

"No...no. My client is innocent. She's very petite; there's no way she could have moved that body…" Diane started to protest, but when she looked up, Kurt wasn't looking at her. He was staring off into the trees.

"What the hell is that?" he asked, extending his arm to point.


	7. Chapter 7

Diane looked in the direction Kurt pointed just in time to see a flash of white moving between the trees some twenty feet away from where they stood. "Kurt, that's it!" she exclaimed. "That's what I saw yesterday. Whoever that is might have seen something the day of the murder. Come on, we have to catch him."

With that, she started off at a quick jog, leaving the trail and heading deeper into the woods, dodging tree trunks and branches, her heart pounding in excitement and anticipation. This could be it! They could find a witness that could tell them about seeing a tall, older man - Arthur Eames - shooting John Patterson in cold blood. Maybe it was a child, or a teenager, in the woods smoking marijuana, and that was why they ran. They were afraid, afraid of the killer, afraid of getting in trouble. It could be that simple.

"Diane," Kurt called after her. She could hear him jogging behind her, trying to catch up. "Diane. Jesus woman, slow down and think here for a minute would you? This could be dangerous."

She stopped and spun around. "Kurt, we don't have time to think, he's going to be out of sight again soon. I need to talk to that person." She grabbed his hand and practically dragged him along behind her for several more feet, but, whatever the flash of white had been, it was no longer anywhere to be seen.

"Damn it, where did he go?" she asked, coming to a stop. Dropping Kurt's hand, she turned in a slow circle. "He was right there! How could he disappear so quickly?"

Her frustration with this case was quickly rising higher than any other in recent memory. Between lying business partners, lurking potential witnesses, and lovelorn associates, she was starting to wish she had never heard of Karen Patterson. "Why does he keep running away from us."

Kurt shrugged and shook his head, still breathing somewhat heavily from exertion. "I don't know."

"He doesn't want to be a witness," she mused, pushing her windblown hair back from her face. "Or, maybe he's the real killer."

"Or he's just shy, Diane. You're shooting in the dark."

She twisted her lip in dismay. He was right, of course. They had no idea who, or what they had been chasing. It could have been an animal for all she knew. "Okay, fine, you win." She crossed her arms across her body, and shivered. The temperature had to have dropped ten degrees in the short time they'd been there. "I wish I knew for sure that there were no witnesses, so we could move on to dealing with the actual facts of this case. It's just so odd, that both times we've been here, we've seen that...whatever, whoever, it was."

Kurt paused and looked at her, head tilted slightly to one side and she knew he was trying to decide whether to humour her, yes, but also whether she could be right, that this situation could be too bizarre to simply ignore. He was a smart man who didn't like loose ends, and she knew he wouldn't be able to let go of this any easier than she could.

"Would it make you feel better if we looked around a bit more?" he asked finally.

She smiled. "Yes, I think it would, if you wouldn't mind?" She knew there was a very good chance they wouldn't find anything, but she...they...would feel better in the long run for having been thorough. And if they could somehow put this witness thing to bed, here tonight, maybe they could move on to something else, like who it was that moved the body post-mortem, and why.

He glanced at his watch. "We've got about thirty minutes before we completely lose the light. Come on." He jerked his head back toward the trail.

The setting sun barely penetrated the thick canopy, only every so often did a sliver of red and orange light reach the floor of forest, casting shadows across mossy logs and fallen branches and lending the woods an eerie quality. Losing what little sun they had made the air even cooler than it already had been, and Diane shivered, partly from the cold, and partly from the increasingly creepy atmosphere. The shadowy forest, so picturesque by day, was now beginning to remind her of the setting of a horror movie.

Not helping that impression were the mournful bird calls overhead or the rustling of small animals in the brush, as startled by her as she was by them. Surely these sounds had been there all along and she just hadn't being paying attention when she was busy discussing the case or flirting with her expert witness. Now that she knew, or suspected at least, that they weren't alone, every little sound, every little glimpse of movement, seemed ominous. She was doubly glad now that she had hired Kurt. She couldn't think of anyone she would rather have alongside her in a situation such as this. No matter what happened she couldn't let him quit. She had to find some way to prove to him that Karen was innocent.

For fifteen minutes, they walked slowly and carefully, looking from side to side for any sign of another person. Kurt led the way while Diane followed close behind, so close in fact, that a couple of times he paused to peer into the darkening woods, she almost bumped into him.

"Alright back there?" he asked, after she jumped and allowed a half-strangled yelp to escape her lips when some tiny creature burst from a pile of leaves and darted up a tree trunk beside her.

"Yes," she said, and if her voice lacked its usual confidence, he was kind enough to not mention it directly. Instead, he slowed his pace until they were walking abreast, even though the trail wasn't quite wide enough to accommodate them both and he was left trudging partially in the rough and their elbows were sliding against each other with every step they took.

"Getting cold in here, he remarked, buttoning up his jacket. "You want to keep going?"

"Just a little farther," she said, pulling the zip of her lightweight sweater up higher under her chin. "Let's just go around that bend in the trail up there, and if we don't see anything ahead, we'll go back. Okay?"

In the darkness, she could barely see his quick nod.

This was probably a waste of time, and what's more, she was beginning to question her own motives. Did she really think she was doing something that might help her client here, traipsing around in the rapidly darkening woods? Or was she just entertaining some preposterous fantasy of her own, of being alone in the dark with a man she found undeniably attractive? A man who was supposed to be a professional contact only, and with whom she had absolutely nothing in common, and no reason to see after this case was over. Was she just being unforgivably self-indulgent?

Too lost in her own thoughts, she forgot to watch where she was going, not that she could see much of the trail in front of her anymore in any case, and tripped over an exposed root, nearly going down in a heap for the second time in as many days.

This time she was saved that indignity by a pair of fast-acting, strong arms catching her about the waist and keeping her upright. "Oh," she exclaimed, clinging to his jacket as she caught her balance and her breath. "Thank you. Good heavens, you must think I'm hopeless. I can't even keep my feet under me when I'm wearing proper footwear."

She looked up at him, expecting to find his already familiar lopsided smile, only to discover his face mere inches from her own, his expression inscrutable. "But, I...I think I'm okay now," she finished, though for some reason her hands refused to loosen their grip on the front of his jacket.

"Good," he said quietly, making no move to release her, and her stomach flipped over in anticipation.

She had never kissed a man with a moustache before, she thought inanely, and as if of its own accord, her right hand let go of Kurt's jacket and rose to cup his cheek, her thumb just barely grazing the edge of his upper lip. Heart pounding, she leaned in.

His eyes closed and his hold on her waist changed from keeping her upright to pulling her close to him, one hand sliding halfway up her back while the other remained resting lightly on her hip.

Her eyes began to drift closed, and then...she stopped and pulled away in incredulity, eyes once again wide open.

"Kurt, look!"

The trail around the curve ahead of them was glowing.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Here's where things go a little sideways**

* * *

They stood together on the trail, still holding on to each other, but any romantic intentions forgotten. "What the hell?" Kurt said.

"Is it...a vehicle of some sort? Headlights?" Diane knew full well it wasn't, unless it was the quietest car in the world, but she was grasping for an explanation, any explanation.

To his credit, Kurt didn't even blink at her nonsensical suggestion. "Maybe. I guess there's only one way to find out." His hands left her waist and he reached for her hand, entwining their fingers together and taking a step towards the light.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we should go back." Diane suggested, not moving.

"Don't you want to find your witness?" he asked.

Truth be told, between the moment she and Kurt had just shared, and now the bizarrely glowing trail, Diane had completely forgotten about the witness. Maybe the light, strange though it was, simply came from a flashlight. She huffed out a breath, and allowed Kurt to lead her by the hand further down the path.

Together they negotiated the curve in the trail and then stopped short, jaws dropping at the sight that confronted them.

It was in the middle of the trail, maybe ten feet away from them, man-sized and glowing with an strangely florescent light that was white and yellow and gray all at once, and somehow no colour at all. Simultaneously transparent, and opaque, and some other state of being for which Diane had no words, it emanated emptiness and sorrow like nothing and no one she had ever encountered before.

Floating a couple of inches above the trail, it resembled the crime scene photographs of John Patterson, but achromatic and horribly in motion, complete with a bullet wound where his left temple used to be.

It saw them and drifted closer.

"Oh my god," Diane breathed.

"Is that…" Kurt began, his words trailing off, the question left unvoiced.

The ghost shimmered as it approached, its form wavering in the slight breeze. Its mouth opened and closed as if it was speaking, but no sound emerged.

"Is that..." Kurt tried again, with more success. "Is that John Patterson?"

"I think...it was?"

"Come on," Kurt said abruptly, yanking Diane's hand back toward the way they had come.

"Wait," she said, holding her ground. "He's trying to tell us something."

"He's trying to tell…" Kurt's voice trailed off again, leaving him simply shaking his head in disbelief.

"He might tell us who killed him. Isn't that what they do?" Diane whispered off to her side, not taking her eyes off the apparition in front of her.

"What they do? How the hell do I know what they do?" Kurt hissed back.

"Well, don't you read?" she asked. "A ghost means the deceased has unfinished business, like wanting his killer brought to justice." Somewhere deep inside, Diane was amazed at her own detached calm, but perhaps it was that or run screaming from the woods, and she really didn't want to be that woman.

The ghost swayed and flickered, arms flailing and mouth moving but no sound escaped. "I'm sorry, I don't understand," Diane told it, and its face collapsed in desolation, ghostly tears streaming down its face. The sense of sadness surrounding it increased as if all the joy in the world had died with John Patterson. Diane could feel tears on her own cheeks.

"It's shrinking," Kurt said, his voice rough with unnatural emotion.

And it was. The harder the ghost cried, the smaller and more translucent it became, as if all its energy was being stolen by its grief until it had none leftover to maintain its physical form.

After a minute or so, it was as if it had never been there at all.

* * *

"You look exhausted," Will said as he pointedly set a large takeout cup of coffee down on Diane's desk.

Diane yawned as she set down her pen, punctuating her partner's point. "I had an...odd night. I didn't sleep very well. But thank you for that." She was referring sarcastically to the slur on her appearance, but she actually was grateful for the coffee. Picking it up with both hands, she took a careful first sip and then a longer drink when she determined it was of a safe temperature.

Will fell into the chair across from her. "Boy Wonder's case keeping you up at night?"

"Ha!" If only he knew. "Something like that."

He sat up a little straighter. "Why, what's the problem?"

Under the guise of another drink of coffee, Diane considered and then quickly discarded the idea of just telling him the truth. Firstly, she wasn't entirely sure what the truth was. Yes, she and Kurt had seen something strange in the woods last night. But it couldn't have been what they thought it was, and in fact, by the time he had dropped her off at home last night, they had mostly convinced themselves it was some kind of mutual delusion brought on by who knew what. Stress and overwork, aren't those the usual excuses?

And in any case, she didn't need to provide Will with any ammunition for a potential powerplay. She liked Will, enjoyed working with him, considered him a close friend and ally, but it was never wise to underestimate his ambition. She could just imagine him calling up Jonas Stern with the news that Diane was seeing ghosts. Mentor or not, Stern wouldn't hesitate to cut her loose if he thought she was becoming a liability.

No. Will was not an appropriate confidante. She could, however, bring him up-to-date on the more mundane aspects of the case.

"Someone moved the body?" he repeated when she finished. "Why?"

"I don't know why, but that's what Mr. McVeigh believes," she said.

Will leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "No one there but your client and her daughter…"

"As far as we know," Diane interjected. "It would have been easy for someone to be hiding out in those woods. Someone like Arthur Eames for instance."

"So, what, he ran over and moved the body when the wife went inside to call 911? Wouldn't she have noticed?"

"Not necessarily. Not if she was sufficiently panicked."

Will shook his head. "I don't buy it."

"A jury might."

"Maybe. But McVeigh isn't going to testify to that. You're going to lose him, Diane; you better start looking for someone else. Maybe a new expert won't agree with the moved body scenario."

"Kurt is keeping an open mind. If I can place Arthur Eames at the scene, he'll still testify for us."

"You place Arthur Eames at the scene, the SA will drop the charges against your client and no one will have to testify."

Diane inclined her head in agreement. That would certainly be the best case scenario.

Will glanced at his watch and stood. "Gotta go. I'm due in court for the Brazelton hearings. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," Diane repeated dutifully, setting her coffee down and picking her pen up.

"Thanks." Will paused at the door. "Oh, and Diane?"

She looked up to find him smirking at her.

" _Kurt_?"

* * *

Kalinda and Cary arrived for their morning meeting half an hour later. By that point, Diane had picked up her phone to call Kurt, and then set it down again without unlocking it, on three separate occasions. There was no reason to call him; she had no new information; she was not his only client; if he wanted to talk to her, he'd call. She reminded herself again of all the reasons, and they were still all true. The worst part was, she didn't even know why she wanted to talk to him so badly. Was it the case that was troubling her, the strange incident the night before, or did she want to talk to him for reasons of a more personal nature.

Probably it was all three.

In any case, now was not the time to be puzzling it out.

"So, what do you have for me this morning?" she asked. "Cary, did you speak with Mr. Patterson's assistant like I asked?"

"I tried, but she had already left the office for the day when I called, and she wasn't answering her cellphone. I'm going to drop over there today."

Diane nodded. "Kalinda, go with him please. Maybe the assistant knows something that might help us place Arthur Eames at the crime scene. Any luck in finding out whether he owns a gun?"

Kalinda shook her head. "If he does, it's not registered. Sorry."

That was unfortunate, but expected. Murderers normally weren't considerate enough to commit crimes with their own legally registered weapons.

"Okay then. I suppose that brings us to my update." She laid out Kurt's suppositions about the body, carefully leaving out any mention of what occurred after he was finished with the crime scene.

"So, as you can imagine," she finished. "This isn't looking good. We need to place someone else at the scene who could have entered the woods from the backyard to shoot John Patterson and then moved the body while Karen was in the house with Daisy. If we aren't able to do that, it will look like Karen moved it herself to try and make it look like the killer was shooting from deeper within the woods. And if that's what happens, we lose our ballistics expert. If the prosecution finds out we had Kurt McVeigh and he quit, they're going to know there was evidence that convinced him our client was guilty."

"Would he really do that?" Kalinda asked.

"What, quit? I think he would, yes, if he believed Karen was guilty. His values won't allow him to testify in favour of anyone who is guilty."

"Honorable of him," Kalinda said.

"Yes, but not good news for us. So get me something to make him believe in Karen's innocence."

Kalinda nodded and rose to leave, pausing to wait for Cary at the door.

"I'll be right there," he told her, looking back over his shoulder.

After Kalinda closed the door, he turned back to Diane. "Look, I just wanted to tell you that I know Daisy can't be my concern here. What you said yesterday, I heard it loud and clear. I understand, and any...interest...I might have in Daisy won't interfere or be acted on until after the case is over."

"Good," she said firmly.

Cary nodded once, stood, and left without another word.


	9. Chapter 9

"I don't know how I can help you, Mr. Agos," John Patterson's assistant said. "John was a great boss. Everyone loved him. I can't imagine why anyone would want to kill him, including Karen. They seemed very happy."

Lily O'Donnell sat behind a nearly bare desk, laptop closed and phone silent, in front of John Patterson's darkened office. Her cheerful pleasantries when Cary and Kalinda introduced themselves seemed at odds with the lonely, deserted air of the suite of offices.

Cary glanced at Kalinda and continued. "We were led to believe John and Karen were having some sort of marital difficulties. Perhaps related to money, or financial problems here at the firm?"

The young woman shook her head. "I don't know anything about that. Karen didn't come up here much. She ran the design department, you know. It's downstairs. If John wanted to talk to her, he usually went down there. But he certainly never said anything that would make me believe they were having problems. Though," she added, reconsidering, "I suppose that doesn't mean much does it? That's not the sort of thing you share with your assistant."

"What about Arthur Eames?" Kalinda interjected. "Did you ever hear him and Mr. Patterson arguing? About money or the firm?"

"Heavens no!" For the first time, Lily lost her professional, executive assistant veneer, her voice rising an octave, insulted on Eames' behalf. "Arthur was, and is, very concerned about the business. He was bothered that he and John weren't as close as they used to be, but no, they didn't fight about the business, or anything else. Arthur loved John like a brother; he would never have hurt him!"

Cary and Kalinda exchanged puzzled John Patterson had not confided in his assistant regarding Eames' embezzlement. Nor did she seem to know that their partnership had been on the verge of being dissolved. Even so, her reaction seemed all out of proportion to what they had asked her.

"What will become of your position, Ms. O'Donnell?" Cary asked on a hunch. "Now that, pardon my directness, but now that your position has become irrelevant."

Lily looked distinctly uncomfortable at this. She glanced around and then leaned slightly forward and spoke more quietly. "You can't tell anyone, okay? No one here knows yet."

"Oh, we won't," Cary promised.

"I'm leaving anyway. I'm pregnant. Arthur and I are getting married."

* * *

"They were at an obstetrician's appointment when John Patterson was shot," Cary said, throwing up his arms. "Can you believe that?"

Diane really couldn't. Couldn't believe her entire case had fallen apart, and couldn't believe Eames suddenly had an alibi because he had been sleeping with his partner's executive assistant. The guy was a liar, a gambler, and an embezzler, but apparently not a murderer. And now they were back to square one. _Damn it._

"I feel bad for Lily," Cary added. "She seemed so happy. Just wait until she finds out what her fiance's been up to."

Diane stifled a smile, but Kalinda didn't even attempt to hide her snort of disbelief.

"What?" he asked, looking over at the investigator. "What's so funny?"

"Cary, she's probably in on it," Kalinda told him. "Don't be so naive. Just because she's pretty and well-spoken doesn't mean she's innocent."

He turned to Diane, who shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't bet against it," she admitted. "But that will all shake out later when Karen or Daisy are ready to deal with it. We can't be concerned with it now."

What she was concerned about was breaking this news to Kurt. Kalinda would verify the obstetrician alibi, but barring anything unforeseen on that front, it seemed likely her ballistics expert would be declining to continue with her case. That was the last thing Karen Patterson needed, so they had to come up with another angle quickly.

"Okay," she said. "Regroup." Standing, she paced over to her window and looked out on the city for a moment before turning and leaning against the ledge. "Cary. This is your case. Now what?"

Cary looked flummoxed for a moment, but recovered quickly. "Start again," he said. "We know Karen is innocent, so someone else has to be guilty. We go over everything again until we find a viable possibility, someone we can throw enough mud at to create reasonable doubt. We got Patterson's calendar from Lily while we were there; Kalinda can go through it, and I'll talk to Karen and Daisy, get them to take me through the whole day of the murder again."

"Yes. Good." Diane pushed off from the window ledge and walked over to where the other two were sitting, leaning against the back of a chair. "And while you're at it, I think the time may have come to address the 'marital difficulties' issue head-on."

Cary's eyes narrowed. "Wait. Are you thinking there's a possibility she is guilty?"

"I'm thinking we need to keep an open mind and defend our client to the best of our ability," she said, frustrated to be going over this yet again. "To do that, we need the facts. Do you think Matan Brody won't find out about any problems between Karen and John? I'm here to tell you, he will. Now we left it alone so we could look into it ourselves first, but we've done that, and we still don't have a definitive answer. We're running out of time, Cary. Jury selection will be starting before we know it, and we have nothing upon which to base a defence. _Nothing!_ "

Cary looked slightly startled by her outburst, and Diane herself wasn't quite sure why she was suddenly speaking so passionately. It must be some leftover emotional disturbance from the previous night. In any case, what she said was correct, if somewhat dramatic, and she stood by it.

"Call Karen," she instructed. "And set up an appointment at her house. Tell her we want Daisy there as well."

* * *

"Oh, Ms Lockhart, I wasn't expecting you," Daisy said when she answered the door. The young woman was dressed in jeans and a purple blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, too precise in its messiness to be genuinely haphazard. "I thought Cary was going to be handling my mother's case himself."

"He is," Diane assured her. "But as a senior partner at Stern, Lockhart and Gardner, it's my responsibility to oversee all our cases. Cary is completely in charge. I'm just...back-up if you will."

Not entirely true, but if the client's family was more comfortable having someone they knew driving the bus, that is what they would have.

Cary arrived behind her on the doorstep an instant later, and Daisy ushered them both inside to a study at the back of the house, inviting them to sit down on a large leather sofa. A tray of tea and cookies sat on the coffee table in front of them.

The room overlooked the backyard, and Diane looked through the window with some unease, at the trailhead leading into the woods. She was still not entirely sure what to make of what she had seen the night before. Had it just been the product of an overactive imagination, fueled by the stress of the situation? She almost wished she could believe that her grip on reality had been somehow compromised; that seemed the lesser of the two evils when the alternative was that she had seen a ghost. She had never been one to believe in such things, had never been frightened, or even amused, by ghost stories told around campfires in her youth. It had always seemed like so much nonsense, entertainment for minds easily influenced. And despite her comment to Kurt about ghosts in books wanting to solve their own murders, that was far from her prefered genre of reading material.

"Diane?" Cary voice summoned her out of her musings.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was wool-gathering. What did you say?"

"Daisy asked if we had any news on the case," her associate informed her.

"Yes, we do," she said turning to the young woman. "But where is your mother?"

"Upstairs. She'll be down shortly," Daisy said, taking a seat behind a large mahogany desk. "I have to confess I had my grandfather call her when I saw you pull in. I wanted to talk to you privately for a moment."

Cary looked to Diane for a moment and then back to Daisy. "Daisy, we can't talk to you about the case without your mother present," he explained gently. "She's the client. There are rules…"

"I know, I know, it's not that," Daisy interrupted, waving her hand. "I just wanted to tell you, Mother is acting very strangely, erratic almost. Some of the things she says... I think the stress is getting to her."

"How so?" Diane asked, but it was too late, the moment lost when Karen appeared in the doorway.

Daisy stood and allowed her mother to take the chair behind the desk, moving to stand by the french doors leading to the backyard.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Karen said to Cary and Diane. "That was Roger on the phone," she added, looking to Daisy. "He just wanted to see how I was doing. Sweet of him." She smiled quickly, but it looked forced, as if she knew she should feel appreciation, but the actual emotion was escaping her.

Turning back to Diane, she asked, "How did it go last night? Did you find what you needed?"

"Last night?" Daisy asked, looking from her mother to Cary. "What happened last night?"

"Diane was out here with our ballistics guy," Cary told her.

" _Diane_ was," she repeated, drawing out the name. Whatever the young woman's interest was in Cary, she was clearly more comfortable with him doing most of the work on her mother's defense. "Why not you?" she asked, moving from the french doors to sit in an armchair across from the two attorneys.

"Mr. McVeigh is a friend of mine," Diane explained, ignoring Cary's startled glance at that new information. She hoped it was at least on its way to becoming the truth. "But in any case, it's been an eventful twenty-four hours. I'll let Cary fill you in on the details.

Karen and Daisy stared quietly in disbelief after being brought up to date on both the latest ballistics findings, and Arthur Eames' alibi.

"So as you can see," Cary explained, "we're back to square one, plus we now have the added complication of the body possibly being moved. Which means, Mrs. Patterson, I have no choice but to ask you this question. I apologize in advance for my bluntness, but there's no way around it if we're going to be able to properly represent you."

He paused and glanced at Diane, who nodded. They had discussed this tactic in the car on the way there, and she was watching Karen closely for her reaction. "The fact is," he continued, "we've been led to believe by multiple people that you and John may have been having marital problems. Karen, I have to ask: did you do this? Did you shoot your husband?"


	10. Chapter 10

Karen stared at her young attorney, unresponsive for so long that Diane began to wonder if she had even heard the question.

"Mom?" Daisy asked, standing up and cautiously approaching her mother.

Finally, Karen blinked, a tear falling from her lashes and trailing down her cheek. "No," she said. "No. No. I did not shoot my husband!" Her voice rose in volume and octave with each word until she was shouting. "What is wrong with you people? The police, the state's attorney, and now my own fucking lawyers! Why is everyone focusing on me, when you need to be figuring out who actually killed John? My god, this is insane!"

Daisy had made her way to Karen's side, and laid her hand on her mother's back, rubbing gently. "Mom," she said. "They have to ask; it's their job, that's all. You know you and dad fought sometimes, and…"

"What? You too, Daisy? I can't believe it; even my own daughter…" Karen stood and pushed past Daisy, running from the room.

The other three occupants of the room stared at one another in stunned silence.

"I...I'm sorry," Daisy said after a moment. "This is what I was trying to tell you. She's not doing well. I think she needs to see someone...a psychiatrist, I don't know. But I didn't think I should take her without talking to you first, if it would look bad, or… I don't even know if she'd go." She looked around helplessly, wrapping her arms around her midsection and blinking furiously.

Cary stood and walked over to her, putting his arm over her shoulders and leading her over to the couch. "Sit," he instructed gently.

"I'll go see to Karen," Diane said, standing.

"Oh, no, Ms. Lockhart, I should…" Daisy protested, but Cary stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Let Diane go," he suggested. "Sometimes someone less emotionally involved is better."

Daisy still looked doubtful, but Diane didn't give her another opportunity to object. She wasn't thrilled with leaving Cary alone with the distraught young woman, but a pointed look over her shoulder would have to suffice as warning for now.

She found Karen in her bedroom, staring out the balcony doors into the backyard. Diane ignored the chill that rippled up her spine at the sight of the dense expanse of trees bordering the lawn, and moved to stand beside the other woman.

"I didn't kill my husband," Karen said, continuing to look out the window. Her voice was quiet, no longer hysterical, but just as firm. She stood ramrod straight, arms at her sides, chin slightly raised as if in defiance of any accusations her lawyer may decide to throw her way. The thick swaths of purple under her eyes, starkly visible in the afternoon sunlight, belied her show of strength.

Diane was not there to accuse. "I believe you," she told her client. And she did. Clients lied all the time, perhaps even more often than not, and Diane wasn't vain or naive enough to think she could tell every time it happened. But she hadn't gotten to where she was today by not trusting her own instincts and right now those instincts were screaming at her that Karen was innocent. She was not a murderer. She didn't shoot her husband in cold blood and then rearrange the crime scene to make it look like the shot had come from deeper within the woods. She knew that like she knew her own name. She just had to prove it.

"I don't know where these stories about John and I are coming from," Karen continued. "Of course we disagreed from time to time; all couples do, but we were happy. We loved each other."

"Okay," Diane said, touching her arm reassuringly. "We'll find another angle."

* * *

"So you really believe her?" Cary asked. The two lawyers had returned to Stern, Lockhart and Gardner after a long conversation with both Karen and Daisy, in which they went over every detail of the day of the murder again, in the vain hope that some new avenue would crop up. None had.

"I do. I'm interested though, in where those rumors…" Diane stopped speaking when Kurt McVeigh came into view on the other side of her glass wall. He stopped at her assistant's desk and she could see the two converse briefly before he ambled over to a chair and sat down to wait, slumping over with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Diane?" Cary prompted. "You were saying?"

"Oh, ah…nothing important. You're going to have to excuse me, Cary. I have another appointment." In actual fact, she did not. Kurt hadn't called ahead as far as she knew, and she didn't imagine his unexpected presence was indicative of any kind of good news.

"Oh. Sure." The young associate rose. "I'll find Kalinda, see if she found anything in the stuff Lily O'Donnell gave us.."

"Yes, good," she replied distractedly, watching as Kurt sat completely still, staring at the floor in her small waiting area.

Cary shrugged and exited her office without comment. Through the glass she saw him exchange greetings with the ballistics expert as he passed by. Kurt stood and gestured toward her office and Cary nodded in the positive, presumably indicating she was now alone.

Her assistant stood as he strode past and Diane quickly slapped the intercom button on her phone. "It's okay, Melissa," she said, just as Kurt entered her office and closed the door behind him.

"Hello," she said, her stomach sinking as he turned around.

He looked tired, ragged around the edges, with deep lines around his eyes and stubble on his chin. His normally neat plaid shirt was creased and limp. Nodding quickly in greeting, he crossed the room to stand in front of her desk, his right arm extended. In his hand was another manilla envelope similar to the one he brought her the day of their first meeting. Had that really only been a few days ago? It felt like decades.

"What's that?" she said, not taking it from him.

"My withdrawal from the Patterson case," he said. "And a cheque refunding your retainer."

"Oh, Kurt." She shook her head and slid her glasses off, tossing them on the desk and rubbing her temple. It was about what she expected, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. She gestured to a chair, which, after a long moment's hesitation, he took, setting the envelope on the desk and folding over in the chair to stare at the floor as he had been doing in the waiting room.

"She's innocent, Kurt. I promise you, she is."

His head jerked up. "You put the business partner at the scene?"

"Well, no," she admitted. "That's probably a dead end; he has an alibi, but..."

Kurt raised his hand to stop her. "It doesn't matter, Diane. I'm out. I just...I'm out." He started to stand, but she beat him to it, rising quickly herself and walking around her desk to block his route to the door.

"This isn't about my client at all, is it?" she accused. "This is about what we saw last night."

He took a step closer to her, speaking quietly but firmly. "We didn't see anything last night but moonlight and shadows."

She shook her head, and when she spoke, her tone matched his. "You know that's not true. There was something out there. Don't you want to know what's happening here? I don't understand how you can just run away from this."

"I'm not running away from anything, Diane. I told you upfront that if I thought the client was guilty, I wouldn't continue with the case. That's all this is."

"But the client is innocent, Kurt! She's innocent, she's lost the love of her life, and she could spend the rest of her life in jail. I know you're a man of honor; you can't just walk away and leave her to hang!"

"We've know each other for less than a week," he said. "Don't pretend you know anything about me." He took another step towards her, but she stood her ground, reaching out and grasping his forearm.

"Look, Kurt. There's something going on here, something we don't understand yet and I know it's frightening, but we can't back away now. We owe it to Karen Patterson to figure this out."

He moved his arm back until her hand fell away. "No, Diane, maybe you owe it to Karen Patterson, but the only person I owe anything to is you, and that debt will be erased when you deposit the cheque in that envelope. Then we can both forget any of this ever happened.

His words stung on some level that had nothing to do with Karen, the case, or whatever happened in the woods. "Is that what you really want?" she asked. "To forget the whole thing, forget we ever met?"

Their eyes met in stubborn silence, neither one able to move even one more inch to find some sort of common ground. Fear, attraction, conscience, respect, and self-preservation all warred in the vast space between them. Nobody was going to win.

"I'm sorry," he said finally, looking away.

What else could she do? She stepped aside, and he walked out the door.


	11. Chapter 11

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of interviews, phone calls and staff meetings. Cary and Kalinda worked against the clock, trying to find someone, anyone, with a grudge against John Patterson, or alternatively, someone who might have been in the woods on the day in question. After several fruitless interviews, they finally happened upon a teenage boy who had been driving down an adjacent road that evening and who claimed to have seen a tall man coming out of the woods and getting into a car parked along the side of the road, a mile or so from the Patterson home. It wasn't much, but at least it gave them something to work with.

Diane reluctantly hired a new ballistics expert, an older gentleman with a commanding presence and adequate credentials, who was prepared to testify that the killer had been over six feet tall. He dismissed outright her tentative question about the body being moved with a wave of his hand and a condescending smile, implying his predecessor had a reputation for needlessly complicating matters.

Diane forced herself to smile in return, and thank him for his assistance, while trying not to think about Kurt shaking his head in disgust. He's the one who left, she reminded herself. She'll do what she has to do for her client..

The incident in the woods - the incident, that was what she called it in her head - was never far from her mind. Most of the fear had faded with time, leaving her with only an all-consuming curiosity. Had they actually seen a ghost? John Patterson's ghost? And if that was indeed what it was - what had it been trying to tell them? It felt important for reasons she couldn't put into words, not even to herself.

She called Kurt once, only once, about three days after he quit. The call went unanswered and she disconnected halfway through his voicemail greeting when she realised she had no idea what she even wanted to say. She didn't want to convince him to testify; she respected his ethical position, even if it was one she didn't share. She didn't want to force him to talk about their experience in the woods when it so clearly made him uncomfortable, no matter how much she wished she could. Mostly she just wanted to go back in time and somehow meet him outside of this case, but he couldn't help her with that. She had to let this go.

"Diane, are you ready?" Cary poked his head into her office, jacket on and attache slung over his shoulder. They had an appointment to meet with Karen at her home to bring her up-to-date on the recent developments in her case.

"Yes," she said, standing up and crossing the room for her coat. "Do you have the drawing from the sketch artist?" They had commissioned a drawing based on the young man's description of the person he saw leaving the woods. His memory was spotty and his glimpse brief, but something was better than nothing. The main takeaway was the man was described as being tall, probably over six feet. Kalinda would check with the neighbours and they would show the drawing to Karen and Daisy and see if anything shook loose, but it was almost better for them if nothing did. As long as the man remained unidentified, he couldn't be alibied out. Of course, she wouldn't mention that thought to the client, who, quite understandably, wanted to know who actually killed her husband.

"I do. You know, I feel like things are finally coming together." Cary grinned at her as she passed him in the doorway.

As they walked down the hall to the elevators, Diane in the lead with Cary trailing behind, she wished she shared her associate's optimism.

* * *

"This could be anyone," Karen sighed, tossing the artist's rendering across the kitchen table where she was having tea with her two lawyers. "I could probably give you a dozen names just off the top of my head, including several that live in this area and might have a perfectly logical reason for being in the woods."

"Our investigator is talking to the neighbours," Cary said. "If it was one of them, we'll find out. What about the description of the car?"

"Dark, late-model sedan? Could be my car," she said glumly. "Look, I'm sorry, I know I'm not being very helpful, but it's just such a generic description." She leaned back in her seat and wrapped her arms around her middle. "I thought when you found this kid that maybe we'd finally caught a break, but it looks like I was wrong."

It's too soon to lose hope, Karen," Diane said, reaching across the table to pull the drawing towards her. It was a very generic drawing, depicting a tall man in a suit with close cropped, light coloured hair, standing next to a dark car. It really could be almost anyone. "We're just getting started tracking him down." She tapped her fingernail against the man's pencil-shaded face. "Kalinda, our investigator, is extremely good at her job. Give her some time, okay?"

Blowing out a breath, Karen nodded and straightened up in her seat. "So you said you hired a new ballistics expert? What happened to your friend?"

"He had a scheduling conflict. A case he was already committed to was moved up in the court schedule." She picked up her tea and took a sip, steadily meeting Cary's gaze across the table. There was nothing to be gained by upsetting Karen by letting her know Kurt thought she was probably guilty. "But I found someone else and he agrees with Mr. McVeigh's original assessment that the killer was over six feet tall. That will mesh well with this new witness' testimony."

"And the body being moved?"

She paused. They had no indication that the prosecution held to any such theory either, but it was a potential weakness in their case. She didn't like the loose end. "He disagrees on that point," was all she said, but she had already requested the new expert at least be prepared to refute the ideas he disagreed with, if in fact they ever came up.

They wrapped up their meeting shortly thereafter, with Karen promising to create a list of names of anyone she could think of who could fit the description of the man seen emerging from the woods.

"Have you shown this to Daisy?" Karen asked as she was seeing them to the door.

"Not yet," Cary replied. "She's meeting me at the office after she's done at work. In fact, I'd better get going or I'm going to be late. Don't worry, Karen. Things are looking up. Really."

Diane nodded her approval at his reassurances. Cary's boyish sincerity went a long way toward putting clients at ease, and he had both the intelligence and the mettle to back up his words. Her faith in him had not been misplaced, and if they won this case it would be a nice feather in his cap as well as a boon to the firm's reputation. She almost smirked imagining Will's chagrin.

She and Cary had taken separate cars, so after he left she took a couple of moments to provide her own reassurances before saying goodbye to Karen and walking to her car. From her parking spot in the driveway, she couldn't see around the house to the trailhead in the backyard, but in her mind's eye it loomed large, more imposing and sinister than it had ever been in person.

You're being foolish, she told herself as she settled in behind the wheel and fastened her seatbelt. There's nothing out there. Sliding the key into the ignition, she started to turn it, meant to turn it, but her hand soon fell away and the engine remained silent. She leaned back in her seat, her hand slipping down to touch the buckle of her seatbelt, her fingernail scratching lightly at the button that would free her.

She blinked, and she was outside the car, hand trailing across the engine bonnet and falling away as she stepped off the driveway and onto the lawn. The too-long grass was damp with dew, and moisture seeped into her expensive, but not waterproof, shoes. She had to walk carefully on her toes to keep her stiletto heels from sinking into the soft earth.

Most of the backyard lay in the shadow of the two-story house and Diane shivered slightly as she carefully made her way past flower gardens, water features, and an abandoned bucket of gardening tools left lying on its side next to a pair of brightly coloured gardening gloves. They had probably been there since the day of the murder; the interrupted chore long since forgotten.

The edge of the yard was lined with towering trees. Evergreens mixed with leafy deciduous: spruce and maple, pine and oak; all surrounded with low-growing ferns and scratchy brambles. The opening to the trail seemed to rise up in front of her, the shadow from the house finally coming to an end and allowing the sun to hit the path beyond as if nature was highlighting it for her. It almost seemed to glow.

Diane stopped about five feet from the trailhead, still not sure why she was even there. She didn't have her boots, and walking through the woods alone didn't seem wise in any case. But she needed to know, needed to understand what had happened the last time she was in there with Kurt. She took a careful step forward. And then she took another.

And then her phone rang.


	12. Chapter 12

She blinked, as if suddenly woken up from hypnosis, and looked around the Patterson's yard in vague disorientation. The phone rang again and when she pulled it from the pocket of her jacket to check the display, _Kurt McVeigh_ glowed back at her. Her stomach jumped a little as she jabbed at the accept button with her index finger.

"Hello," she said cautiously.

"Hey," came his reply. "I...ah...I just wanted to see how you were doing."

"I'm fine," she said, though it was a lie because she definitely was not fine. Right at the moment she was returning to her car as quickly as she could manage in her high heels in the damp, slippery grass without falling on her behind. What had she been thinking, going down into the yard like that? "How are you?"

"Fine," he said.

"Oh, well good. We're both fine then," she said, a bit impatiently, arriving back at her car and flinging the door open. This stoically silent thing he had going on didn't play nearly as well by telephone.

Just as she opened her mouth again to tell him so, he spoke again. "Look, Diane. I was thinking about you...about your case, and what happened, and... Can we get together and talk?"

Eyebrows rising in surprise, she slid behind the wheel and closed the door before speaking again. "Yes," she said. "Of course we can. I'm at the Patterson's now. Do you want to meet me back at my office in about 45 minutes?"

"I'll be there," he said, and before she could reply, he disconnected.

Smiling and shaking her head, she started the car.

* * *

"How did it go with Daisy?" Diane asked Cary when she arrived back at the office, sticking her head in the conference room as she passed.

He looked up from the notes he was making on a copy of the artist's sketch and shook his head. "No dice. She said the same thing as Karen. Could be anyone. But then Kalinda called and said she has something from Mr. Patterson's agenda that we got from his assistant." He glanced at his watch. "She should be here any minute."

He raised an eyebrow in question, but Diane had to shake her head. "I have another meeting, but interrupt if it's anything urgent," she told him before backing out of the room and continuing on to her office.

Kurt was already there, sitting outside of her office in the chair by her assistant's desk.

"Mr. McVeigh," she said as she approached.

"Ms. Lockhart," he replied, standing up.

Her mouth quirked into a small, private smile at their feigned formality and she thought she saw an answering flash of amusement in his eyes, but it was hard to say for sure. "Follow me," she invited, walking past her openly fascinated assistant and into her office, closing the door when they were both inside.

"She likes you," she said, nodding to Melissa on the other side of the glass.

Kurt looked confused. "What? Why?"

She laughed. "The boots. I think she figured out where they came from." Instead of going behind her desk, she took a seat on the couch.

Kurt followed, sitting in the armchair beside her. A short chuckle escaped him and he shook his head briefly, looking over at her. "Not the woman I was trying to impress," he admitted.

It was Diane's turn for slightly startled laughter. "Good," she said. "Because she wasn't the only one impressed."

They stared at each other, both unsure of the sudden turn in the conversation, but pleased at the possibilities opening up. After a moment, Diane cleared her throat. "But perhaps we should put a pin in that for the moment?"

Kurt nodded. "Yep."

She waited then, for him to explain his reason for wanting to see her, but he remained silent. As that was not entirely unexpected, she prompted him readily. "What are you thinking?"

He inhaled deeply, then stood up and walked several paces away from her, turning to face the window. Diane watched with barely reined in curiosity, but she knew somehow that this was not the time for another prompt. He would say what he needed to when he was ready to say it and not a moment before.

He turned back around to face her before he spoke. "I'm thinking we need to go back."

"Back," she repeated.

"To the woods," he clarified. "We need to go back to the woods and find out what that thing was. Because the more I think about it, the more I wonder if someone wasn't trying to scare us, throw us off the trail. And if that's the case…"

"If that's the case, Karen might not be guilty," Diane finished.

"She might not be guilty," Kurt conceded, "or she might be the one behind it, but either way it's another avenue to pursue and I'd like to help you do it."

"Okay then," Diane said.

* * *

The sun was already starting to go down when they arrived back at the Patterson home. Diane had called ahead to warn Karen of their arrival and the other woman, clearly bemused by the frequency of her visits, told her to enjoy her hike. Her client obviously did not understanding why her high-powered attorney seemed to want to spend so much time traipsing around in the woods, but didn't really want to ask either, for which Diane was eternally grateful. "Because the ghost of your murdered husband may be haunting those woods," was not a conversation she wanted to have with her still-fragile client.

Kurt parked the truck behind Karen's car, and they both got out and met on the grass beside the driveway. There was a slight chill in the air, as there always seemed to be when they got close to these woods. For the first time, Diane wondered whether that was a purely meteorological phenomenon or whether there could be something else at play. Whatever it was, she was glad she put on a warm sweater when they stopped off at her home so she could change.

Now properly shod, the walk through the backyard was less treacherous than it had been earlier. The gardening supplies still laid abandoned in the same place; the brightly colored gloves were tinged red and orange by the setting sun.

"Are you ready," she asked Kurt when, without discussion, they both paused at the entrance to the woods.

"No," he said honestly. "Are you?"

She shook her head. "But I don't suppose that matters much."

He paused, looked at his feet and then back up at her. "Matters to me," he said, holding out his hand.

Smiling, she reached out and took it, and together they ventured once again into the forest.

The setting sun cast odd, colourful shadows all around them and the cool breeze coming through the trees was refreshing. If it weren't for their purpose in being there, Diane thought she would enjoy this walk very much. The scenery, the fresh air, the attractive man holding her hand, if only she could just enjoy it instead of wondering what they might run into around the next bend in the trail.

"Nice evening," Kurt commented, almost as if he had read her mind.

"Yes," she agreed.

"Next time we'll go somewhere without ghosts."

Startled by his forthrightness, she glanced over to find him looking straight ahead. She made no comment, but when he squeezed her hand, she squeezed back.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours, but was probably only fifteen minutes or so, passing by the crime scene and continuing along the same path they followed that strange night a couple of weeks earlier when they saw whatever they saw.

So far there had been no figures in white running around just a little too far away for them to see, and no strange lights coming from around bends in the trail. It had been later the previous night, the sun had been almost fully set, and Diane wondered aloud if that mattered. Perhaps they wouldn't see anything until it was darker.

Kurt shrugged. "It'll be dark soon enough." And true enough, the reds and oranges of the setting sun were almost gone and the shadows were growing deeper.

Diane shivered again, though not from the cold this time. Just up ahead was the bend in the path where they had first seen the oddly florescent light that signalled the ghost's presence.

Kurt stopped walking suddenly, pulling Diane to a halt. Not dropping his hand, she turned to face him, standing with her back to the trail ahead. She reached out and took his other hand. "Whatever happens up there, we have to stay calm and try to think logically," she said.

He nodded, stepping closer to her. "I'll look for a projector, wires, anything that proves it's fake. You try to figure out what it's saying."

"Oh..okay," she said, her voice falling to a whisper as he took another step closer. "That's a good plan."

"Yep." His hands released hers and moved to her hips, and she took the final step forward, completely closing the gap between their bodies. He lowered his head, approaching her slowly, almost tentatively, but when their lips finally met, there was nothing tentative at all about his kiss. Her eyes closed as she slid her hands up his back, blocking out everything else around them and focussing only on this moment. His moustache scratched against her upper lip providing a pleasing contrast to the softness of his lips. She never would have imagined the combination could be so pleasurable.

When they finally broke apart, she lifted her eyes to find him staring at something behind her.

"Diane. Look." He inclined his head forward, and when she turned, she found the path up ahead was once again glowing with strange, unearthly light.


	13. Chapter 13

Kurt's arms fell away from her waist as she took one step and then another down the trail towards the source of the luminescence. The strange light itself seemed to encourage her, pulsating with each step she took. Even before she rounded the corner she could already feel the sadness projected by the spirit encroaching on her own emotions. Stopping, she squeezed her eyes closed, dug her fingernails into her palms, and breathed deeply in an attempt to block out whatever was causing the external emotional stimulation and concentrate only on her own feelings. At the moment, those feelings were largely a mishmash of attraction, fear, and curiosity. They would figure this out, for her client, and for themselves.

She opened her eyes again, feeling more prepared to handle whatever was around the bend. By this time, Kurt had caught up with her and she reached over and took his hand. "Now or never," she said, looking over at him.

"Now," he confirmed with a quick nod.

With that, they walked hand in hand around the bend to confront the source of the light.

They discovered the apparition floating six inches above the ground in the middle of the trail and they came to a halt when they were about a dozen feet away. It appeared in the same indescribable state of contradiction as before, seeming to ripple in and out of solidity, even reality itself, constantly in motion, even as it stayed in one place. The bullet wound at its left temple slowly leaked black blood down its cheek. It gestured at them, beckoned them closer and tried to speak, but no sound emerged.

"I'm going to look around for projection equipment," Kurt said sotto voce.

Diane nodded. She didn't think he would find any. Whatever this was, there was too much of an emotional component involved for it to be mere fakery. But she knew Kurt wouldn't be entirely convinced until he checked things out for himself.

"I'm going to try to communicate with it," she replied. He nodded and slowly backed away, disappearing into the surrounding trees. The ghost paid him no mind, just continuing waving its arms and mouthing unintelligible words.

Diane took a step toward it, tilting her head to one side and just observing. Now that she was closer, she could see that Its eyes weren't really focussed on her but instead seemed to wobble around in all directions. She couldn't be sure if it actually knew she was there or whether it just behaved this way whether it had company or not. Lip reading was not a skill she possessed in the best of times, and this certainly was not the ideal circumstances under which to learn. Her subject's lips didn't seem move quite the way a living person's would, but rather seemed to slither around whatever words it was saying, moving in and out of solidity as well as in ways meant to form the words it no longer was able to produce audibly.

"It's okay, Mr. Patterson," she said, in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "I'm trying to help you. Speak more slowly, please."

At the sound of her voice, the spirit finally seemed able to focus on her. When it looked directly at her, and the sorrow in the depths of its silver-grey eyes nearly knocked her off balance, slamming against her mind like a physical blow. Much the same as the last time they were together, its desolation started to overcome it, tears leaking from its eyes and cascading down its ruined face.

"No, no, don't cry," she implored it. The last time it started to cry, it used up all its energy and eventually disappeared. "You have to stay calm and speak carefully so I can understand you."

It was probably pointless, trying to communicate with a spirit who may or may not even understand her, but she had to try. She could feel its overwhelming sadness begin to seep past her defenses, forcing its way into her consciousness. She screwed her eyes closed and tried to block it out. She couldn't let it get to her. Dimly, she was aware that her phone was buzzing against her hip, but she ignored it.

Kurt returned to her side just as she opened her eyes. "Didn't find anything," he said quietly. "No projectors, no wires, no one hiding in the bushes controlling the…" he trailed off, waving his hand in the spirit's direction, unwilling to say the appropriate words to classify it.

She nodded; it was only what she expected. Whatever was happening here, it wasn't fraudulent. Unfortunately, it was all too real. A plot to frighten them would be easier to deal with.

"Try to read its lips," she said, grabbing Kurt's hand and pulling him over to stand beside her.

He peered closer at the apparition, squinting into the ever increasing darkness. After a moment, he stepped back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His voice was rough when he spoke, and Diane knew the emotions the spirit projected were taking their toll on him as well.

"I think I can make out a J sound," he said, shaking his head. "But that's all, and I'm not even sure of that much."

His phone began to ring, and he seemed grateful for the opportunity to step away.

"McVeigh," she heard him say from behind her, as she resumed her attempts to read the spirit's lips. It was still crying, and getting smaller and more transparent by the second as its overwhelming emotion stole the energy it needed to maintain any semblance of corporeality.

"There, there," she said, not knowing what to say to comfort a distraught ghost. "Don't cry. Keep trying." Now that Kurt had mentioned a J sound, she could see it too. "Juh, something juh. We're getting somewhere; keep trying."

The apparition continued mouthing the same unknown words over and over, its tears freely flowing, but she couldn't make out anything else. "Juh, juh," she repeated helplessly.

"Roger," Kurt said from behind her.

Diane whirled around, her jaw dropping. _Roger?_

"Roger MacPhee. Is that who shot you?" Kurt asked it.

The ghost's crying stopped. Lowering its hands to its sides, it nodded, staring directly at Kurt, its constant unnatural motion slowing and allowing it to focus on the ballistics expert. A small smile alleviated some of the gruesomeness of its appearance. It nodded again.

"Roger MacPhee? John's former father-in-law?" Diane asked. "Where are you getting this, Kurt?"

Kurt held up his phone. "That was Cary. He saw us leaving your office together, so he called me when he couldn't get you."

Diane vaguely remembered feeling her cell phone vibrate a few minutes earlier.

"And he said Roger MacPhee was the killer?" She still didn't understand. Where was this coming from? MacPhee hadn't even been a suspect.

Kurt shook his head. "Not quite. He said your investigator found mention of a meeting between MacPhee and Patterson in Patterson's agenda. It was supposed to have taken place the day before the murder. Cary said they were curious because it had never come up before in any conversations they had with the man."

"Well, did they ask him about it?" Diane asked.

"That's just it," Kurt said. "They couldn't reach him by phone, so they went to his apartment. Diane, the place has been cleaned out. He's gone."

"But why?" She turned back to the ghost. "Why would he shoot you?"

The ghost was no longer listening. While Kurt and Diane had been talking, it had been growing and was now back to the size it had been before it started crying. It had regained at least the illusion of corporeality and its strange appearance of constant motion was gone. Most startling of all, the bullet hole in its left temple was nowhere to be seen. John Patterson now appeared as though he were a character in a black and white movie, brought to life in front of them.

He no longer seemed aware of them, and was instead staring off through the trees at something only he could see, a small smile gracing his once again handsome face.

As they watched, the smile became a grin and he started walking away from them, leaving the trail and venturing off into the dense woods.

After a few minutes they could no longer see him at all, but the raw emotion he left behind washed over them in joyous waves.


	14. Chapter 14

By mutual unspoken agreement, Kurt and Diane did not speak of their otherworldly encounter as they rushed back to Kurt's truck. Instead, they discussed the latest unexpected developments with the case.

"Cary didn't say _anything_ else?" Diane asked again. She knew she was being ridiculous; if Kurt knew anything else, of course he would have told her. But Cary's phone was going straight to voicemail and Kalinda wasn't answering at all, and she was about to go out of her mind with curiosity. _Roger MacPhee_ killed John Patterson? But _why_?

"Do you want to…?" Kurt gestured at the darkened house.

Diane thought for a moment. She didn't want to talk to Karen until she had more information. But at the same time, what if she was in danger? If Roger MacPhee was guilty, and somehow knew they were on to him… But how could he know that? From what Cary told Kurt, it seemed like the man had already cleared out his apartment before his name had even come up. No, she needed more information before she told Karen anything. She shook her head. "No, I need to talk to Cary first. Then we'll get her and Daisy...Damn it. Daisy. That's where what he's doing, he's out looking for Daisy."

She pulled out her cell phone and tapped in Cary's number again. This time the associate answered on the second ring.

"Agos."

"Cary. It's Diane. What the hell is going on?"

"Diane. Jesus, I wish I knew. Did McVeigh tell you? We found a notation about a meeting with MacPhee in Patterson's agenda. Since he never mentioned it, I figured it was cancelled or something, or just slipped the old guy's mind. So I tried to call him to check it out, but there was no answer. Kalinda suggested we stop over there, and when we did, we found the whole place had been cleared out. It wasn't until then that it even occurred to me he might be involved. I mean, it doesn't look good, does it?"

It certainly didn't. "Have you contacted Karen or Daisy?" she asked.

After a guilty pause, Cary answered. "Not Karen, no. I've been trying to call Daisy, but she's not answering."

Wordlessly, Diane shook her head. "I'll bring Karen to the office. You and Kalinda go pick up Daisy and meet us back at the office. We may need get the police involved."

Cary agreed, and Diane disconnected the call and looked over at Kurt, who had yet to start his truck. "Do we have room for one more?"

* * *

"There has to be some other explanation," Karen repeated, for probably the tenth time. "Roger would never hurt John. They were close, practically father and son after all these years."

Diane and Karen sat side by side in the large Stern, Lockhart and Gardner conference room, waiting for Cary and Kalinda to arrive, hopefully with Daisy in tow.

"And you have no idea why they had a meeting scheduled?" Diane asked again.

"No, but…I mean they had lunch all the time. It was a common enough occurrence that John wouldn't necessarily mention it to me. He might have…"

Whatever Karen had been about to say was drowned out when Cary burst into the conference room. He was breathing heavily, as if he had been running; his normally neat hair was dishevelled and his face was flushed a damp pink.

"Where's Daisy?" he gasped at Karen.

Karen looked from Cary to Diane and back and when she spoke, panic was seeping into her tone. "I don't know. Diane said you were going to pick her up."

He shook his head, still gulping air. "She wasn't there. Her neighbour thought he saw her getting into a dark-coloured, full size sedan. I hoped it was Diane's."

Karen paled. "Roger drives a black Cadillac."

"Did she appear under duress?" Diane asked.

"The neighbour didn't think so. He didn't even see the driver, just Daisy getting into the passenger side."

"I'm sure she had no idea what was even happening. He's her grandfather; she trusts him. There's no reason she wouldn't have gotten in his car if he asked." Karen said. "If he hurts her…we have to find them!"

"Kalinda's talking to her contact at the police department now," Cary said. "Don't worry; we'll find her."

Diane met his eyes over top of Karen's head. They had _better_ find her.

Kurt cleared his throat then, and stood up from the chair in the corner of the room, where he had been sitting since they arrived. In all the commotion, Diane had almost forgotten he was there. He jerked his head in the direction of the hall, and Diane nodded, following him out.

"Look," he said, "I don't think I'm going to be of any help here, so…"

"Oh, yes, of course," she said. "Go."

"It's not that I don't want to help," he began.

"I know," she said, reaching over and laying her hand on his forearm. "It's been a long day, and it looks like it could be an even longer night. And you've already helped more than I had any right to expect."

He grinned crookedly. "I wish I could say, 'anytime', but I'd rather not experience anything like that ever again."

Diane laughed. "No, me neither."

He glanced at the floor and then back to her face. "Anyway, in spite of the strangeness of the situation, I've enjoyed spending time with you. Maybe when this is all settled, we could have dinner?"

"I'd like that."

Kurt nodded. "Good. I'll talk to you." He lifted a hand briefly in goodbye, then turned away.

Diane watched him walk off until he turned a corner and was out of sight. Then, with a sigh, she turned around and went back into the conference room. Inside, she found Cary pacing from one end of the table to the other, phone held to his ear, and Karen watching his every step.

"No, nothing," Cary said into the phone. _Kalinda_ , he mouthed to Diane when he noticed her standing there.

She pulled out a chair across the table from Karen and sat down, watching Cary's expression carefully.

"Okay, call when you can. Thanks." He tapped to end the call and slid his phone back in his jacket pocket. "Kalinda managed to convince someone at the police department to put out an APB on Roger MacPhee. They'll have officer at the airport, the train station and patrols will be watching for his car."

"And Daisy?" Karen asked.

"They have her description as well and the police know she could be in danger. They'll find them, Karen."

Diane just hoped that wasn't an empty promise.

* * *

After an hour of no further news, Cary left to drive Karen to her sister's house for the night. It was far from the first time Diane had been alone in the office after dark, but it was the first time she was at all uneasy about it. The worst of it was, she didn't know if she was more worried about there being a murderer on the loose, or about her newfound knowledge that there may be so much more to life and death than she previously thought.

In any event, this day had lasted long enough, and she was going home.

She rode the elevator down to the lobby and said goodbye to the security guard, waving her thanks as he buzzed her out of the building. Her car was in the parking garage next door and she walked quickly, holding her jacket closed with one hand, and clutching her keys in the other, her shoulder bag hanging from the crook of her elbow. The street was well lit, as was the garage when she entered at street level. Her reserved spot was down a level and toward the back, so she continued walking quickly, her earlier unease gaining strides for no apparent reason. The garage initially seemed empty, but the quiet was suddenly shattered, first by one car door slamming, then a second, followed by a male voice echoing from around the wall separating the two hemispheres of the garage.

"This is a bad idea, girl," the man said.

"No, it's not," a familiar young female voice argued. "Running if we don't have to, that's a bad idea."

 _Daisy?_

Diane stopped in her tracks, then backed up so she was flat against the concrete wall that separated her from the other two people. Silently, she thanked whoever was listening that she had neglected to change back into her high heels and had been walking through the garage in her noiseless hiking boots.

"We do have to. There's a witness; someone saw me!"

 _Roger, it must be._

"A stupid teenager says he saw someone walking out of the woods and getting into a car. I saw the picture, Grandpa; it doesn't even look like you. Please, just get back in the car and wait for me. I'm just going to go talk to Cary. He likes me; I know he'll help."

 _Was Daisy only pretending to help her grandfather in an attempt to get away? Or had she known Roger was guilty from the start?_

"It's late; how do you even know he's here?" the old man demanded.

"Because he left me a bunch of messages asking me to come here, that's why. Please Grandpa, get back in the car."

"Well, what if _she's_ here too? That woman lawyer, the partner?"

"She's not. I was watching the building while I was waiting for you. She came in earlier with some guy in a big old truck. I saw them leave again an hour or so ago."

Another car rolled into the garage then, and Diane used the echoing rumble as cover to pull her phone from her purse and tap in 9-1-1. Quickly and quietly she relayed her location and the situation to the operator, not staying on the line long enough to confirm she was understood. She shoved her phone back into her bag, just as the new arrival's engine turned off.

Another car door slammed.

"Daisy! There you are. I've been looking for you." Cary's voice echoed throughout the parking garage, sending Diane's stomach plummeting. She still hadn't quite gotten a handle on the conversation between Daisy and Roger. It certainly sounded as if the young girl was involved in her father's shooting in some way, at least by helping her grandfather after the fact, but there was still the possibility that she was only going along with the old man until she was able to get away. Unfortunately, in either situation, Cary had just unknowingly walked into danger.


	15. Chapter 15

"Cary, hi," Daisy said. Still hidden in a dark corner on the other side of a concrete wall, Diane could detect no sign of anxiety in the young woman's tone. "I got your messages; that's why I'm here. What's going on? Did you find out something that will help my mom?"

"Uh, yeah, sort of," Cary replied. In her mind's eye, Diane pictured him peering into the darkest corners the garage, searching for any sign of Roger MacPhee. "Why don't we go upstairs and I'll update you on what's been going on."

Roger must have been well hidden, for Cary made no comment on his presence. In the best case scenario, Daisy would accept Cary's suggestion to go up to the law office, and then tell him that Roger was lurking in the parking garage. And in the meantime Roger would get into his car to wait, giving Diane an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

Unfortunately, the best case scenario was not to be.

"Oh, no," Daisy said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. "I'm sorry, I have somewhere I need to be. I don't have time to go upstairs. Can you just tell me here?"

Diane's heart sank. Daisy clearly was not looking to get away. In fact, she was speaking loudly, as if she wanted Roger to hear everything she said to Cary.

Cary, to his credit, seemed to be given pause by her refusal and didn't immediately comply. Diane wished she could see his face from her concrete hideaway as he repeated his invitation to follow him up to the office. Carefully she inched closer to the edge of the dividing wall, hoping to catch a glimpse of the drama playing out on the other side.

"It's not nice to eavesdrop, Ms. Lockhart," came a gruff, male voice from behind her.

She spun around to find Roger MacPhee had snuck around the other side of the dividing wall and was now standing six feet away from her, pointing a rather large gun at her chest. The exhausted, but dapper, gentleman she remembered from her first meeting with grandfather and granddaughter was gone, replaced with a hard looking man dressed in black, smirking at her with unnerving calm.

"Mr. MacPhee," she bluffed, knowing it was pointless even as she spoke, "What are you doing here? Are you in some sort of danger?"

"Funny," he said, walking a few steps closer and then gesturing with the gun. "Walk."

Unable to think of any other options, Diane obeyed, walking out from behind the wall to find Cary facing away from them, still trying to convince Daisy to leave the garage with him. Daisy, on the other hand, was looking straight in their direction and her eyes widened in shock when she saw them.

"Look who I found skulking around in the dark like an oversize roach," Roger announced. "Ms. Bitch, Managing Partner herself."

Cary spun around, then stopped short at the sight of the gun in Roger's hand. He turned back to Daisy. "Daisy, get behind the car," he commanded.

Daisy ignored him. "Grandpa, what are you doing with that gun?" she asked, doing a passable job of sounding horrified.

"Oh, give it a rest, girl," Roger snapped. "It's over. She heard everything." He jabbed the gun into Diane's side and she gasped in pain, hands moving to protect her ribs.

"Diane?" Cary asked, "What's going on here?"

"They're in it together," she managed to gasp, before Roger silenced her with another hard poke with the gun.

"What's going on," he said conversationally, "is that the jig is up. And my granddaughter I are getting the hell out of Dodge. So I suggest you come stand over here with your boss and behave yourself until I decide what to do with you." He pointed the gun at Cary and jerked his head in Diane's direction.

With one last confused look at Daisy, Cary complied. "Are you okay?" he whispered to Diane, as Roger crossed the short distance to where Daisy was standing by the car.

"I think so," Diane said. Her side hurt, and she would probably be bruised, but she didn't think he had done any serious damage.

"Shut up!" Roger yelled at them, waving the gun for effect, before going back to speaking quietly to Daisy.

Diane couldn't hear what they were saying from where she stood next to the concrete dividing wall, but she could see Daisy getting more and more agitated, her forehead creasing in anger and her mouth twisting as she argued with whatever Roger was telling her. After a few minutes, her furious gaze fell on the two lawyers.

"You!" she shouted, marching across the parking garage to stand in front of Cary. "This is all your fault. I said from the start I wanted _you_ working on Karen's case! Only you, not her!" She jabbed a furious finger at Diane.

"Diane's a great lawyer, and she's my boss," Cary said. "Your mother had a much better chance of being found innocent with her helping."

"Exactly!" Daisy shouted. "Karen was supposed to be convicted! You idiot, don't you get it? They were going to give away my mother's land, Cary!"

And then, with almost an audible click, everything fell into place in Diane's mind, just as the sound of sirens reached her ears.

* * *

"The two men had lunch the day before the murder, because John wanted to tell Roger he had decided to donate the land he inherited from his late wife, Roger's daughter, to the Illinois Nature Preservation Society. In Roger's view, that land should belong to Daisy, who is his daughter's only child. Daisy, when her grandfather told her about it, agreed." Diane set down her wine glass and picked up her fork, selecting a tomato from her salad.

Kurt's eyes narrowed. "So they killed him," he said.

"Yes. John's will specifically left the land in question to his daughter rather than Karen, so when he died before the donation was finalized, the land became Daisy's. I'm not sure if it was their hope all along that Karen be arrested, but when she was, they tried to ensure her conviction as a way of keeping suspicion away from them."

"How so?" Kurt asked. He picked up his knife and cut off a piece of steak.

"They were counting on Cary being incompetent," Diane explained. "Daisy asked him to take the case because she knew he was interested in her, knew he was inexperienced in criminal law, and thought she could manipulate him into providing a poor defense for Karen."

"They didn't count on you becoming involved." Kurt set down his steak knife and picked up his water glass.

"Right. I always supervise my new associates closely; it's part of my job to mentor young lawyers. And, I admit I may have taken a bit of a personal interest in this case even over and above that." Her lips quirked into a smile as she looked at Kurt. When he heard about the previous night's incident on the news, he had called her immediately to make sure she was all right. She had downplayed her sore ribs, which were now a lovely shade of purple, and agreed to have dinner with him the next night.

"Their bad luck," Kurt said, returning her smile. He reached over and picked up her hand. "But good luck for me."

Diane squeezed his hand in return. "For me as well."

They continued eating quietly, both contemplating the crime that had brought them together and their bizarre experiences in the woods.

"Do you think he knew?" Diane asked after a while, setting down her knife and fork and taking a sip of wine.

"That his daughter was involved in his murder?" Kurt shook his head. "No. I think he thought Roger was acting alone. That was the name he wanted us to know."

Diane nodded contemplatively. "I hope that's so. I can't imagine knowing your own child…" she trailed off, the end of the sentence too awful to voice.

Kurt reached out and took her hand again. "All I know is he was happy when he left that night."

And that was true; she knew it like she knew her own name. Wherever John Patterson was now, he was happy.

And, as she looked across the table at the man this strange case had brought into her life, so was Diane.

The End

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story! :)**


End file.
